


The Kids Ain't Alright (But They're Getting By)

by TheWyldeWynd



Category: Far Cry 5, Far Cry: New Dawn
Genre: Adoption, And Making Healthy Ones Along the Way, Awkward Flirting, Badass teenagers, Because They're All Minors, Canon-Typical Violence, Codependency, Eden's Gate is Still Awful, Escaping Toxic Relationships, Families of Choice, Feral Behavior, Flirting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Multi, Nonverbal Characters, Nonverbal Communication, Polyamorous Characters, Post-Far Cry 5, Teenage Rebellion, That's Staying Unresolved, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, We Have Puppies, Welcome to the New Order, not really but sort of, post apocalyptic road trip, pre-new dawn, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-28 02:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17778515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWyldeWynd/pseuds/TheWyldeWynd
Summary: Carmina Rye just wanted to survive the wilds, avoid being eaten or killed by anything, and make her way back to Prosperity before her parents got freaked out enough to ground her for life.  Carmina Ryesomehowended up becoming single parent (or possibly married, she’s honestly not sure at this point) to a pair of really weird twins that came out of the woods like weirdly beautiful ghosts instead.  Under the circumstances there’s really only one thing to say.Road Trip!Or, in which Carmina Rye meets the Bunker Babies ™.  Look out, Post-Apocalypse, look out.





	1. Hello, Won't You Tell Me Your Name?

**Author's Note:**

> _*Kicks in door, deposits fic, and looks at calendar* ... WHOOOOO!!! Under the wire, take **that** yuletide plague and New Dawn release date! I **made** it! This is **all** getting jossed in about a day and ask me if I care oh wait don't bother I **don't!**_
> 
> _*Ahem* And now I take you to - about one year before the presumed start of New Dawn. Please enjoy._

In retrospect, jumping off the cliff may not be the best idea she’s ever had.

Granted it prevented a nasty case of Abduction by Raiders (new guys, calling themselves “The Highwaymen”), and the river _did_ break her fall… more or less… but it notably did _not_ prevent getting swept rapidly downstream, washing up on some distant and unknown shore, and – not the least problematic – being Lost As Balls in unfamiliar wilderness. None of which seems any less likely to lead to horrible fates and/or death like she’d been trying to avoid in the first place.

In short – Carmina Rye isn’t really loving her life choices at the moment.

She digs her toes into the notched bark, reaching up to grab the next branch and trying not to swear out loud as her ribs and back and shoulders _scream_ at her.

At least she’s still got her gun. There’s only two bullets in it, sure, but that’s something. And, if she’s lucky, then maybe just the sight of it will be enough to scare off any particularly cowardly people and/or beasties she runs into; _and_ , if worse comes to worst, she can always try to use it as a club before her gruesome death. Or maybe she could use it to just put a bullet in her own head and just avoid the whole getting beaten and/or eaten and/or raped to death thing. The point of the gun-having is that she’s got _options_.

Completely horrible options, sure, but still.

Options.

Yeah.

She is so fucking screwed.

And not in the least because, even if she _somehow_ survives to get back home, her parents are going to _kill_ her for failing to notice – and then properly escape from – the fairly obvious group of crazed Highwaymen. And then they’re going to ground her corpse.

Her fingers _finally_ close on the branch and, in a move that brings tears of pain to her eyes and re-wettens her slowly drying clothes with sweat, she swings herself up onto the branch and collapses back against the truck, panting and gasping and trying really hard not to cry as she looks up towards her destination.

_One more branch down, just another twenty-feet or so more to go._

Yeah.

The whole eat-a-bullet plan is looking better by the second, honestly.

But let no one ever claim that Kim Rye raised a quitter, or that Nick Rye raised someone who baulked at impossible odds; so Carmy’s going to pull herself up by the bootstraps, relegate suicide to at _least_ Plan G, and do her damnedest to get back home.

Which means climbing the damn tree so she can get a look around and try to figure out what direction home _is_ exactly. 

She’s got a rough idea, of course – her mama and daddy also didn’t raise an idiot. She’d fallen into a stream, after all, and even nuclear Armageddon doesn’t change the fact that water only runs in one direction, so _in theory_ all she needs to do is follow the river in the opposite way it’s going and she should – eventually – find her way back to Prosperity. _However_ …

Giving herself a little shake Carmy slides up the trunk, slow and steady so as to not fall and die ignobly, and starts making her way up to the next branch.

However, a problem arises in that she spent a significant portion of her trip _under_ the river, in that she seems to have taken at least one turn in the river, and – again, not the least of her worries – that she has absolutely _no idea_ what dangers might lie between her and her end goal. And that lack of knowledge is _kind of_ the thing that can get you killed dead if you’re not careful.

So. Up the really, really tall and hard to climb tree she goes.

“It’s a… real good thing I’m not scared of heights, isn’t it?” Her voice hisses out between clenched teeth, an indulgence she allows herself now that the local wildlife – blessedly _not_ seeming to contain any of the Kill-You-Dead-And-Eat-You or Kill-You-Dead-For-No-Real-Reason varieties – has calmed down and gone about their daily business. “’Cause, if I _was_ scared of heights, well –” her feet slip against the bark, sending her body down the tree and her heart and stomach up her throat a few inches before she gets her grip back, “well that’d just make this whole thing _really_ difficult and unpleasant, now wouldn’t it.” She stretches up, fingertips brushing against her next target. “Yep. Sure am glad I’m not scared of heights.”

Her fingers close around the branch, she wrenches herself up onto it, and leans back against the trunk while trying very hard not to heave.

All told it probably only takes her a few minutes to get all the way up, but by the time she does Carmy feels like she’s just run an entire marathon. Whatever the hell that is. But the important thing is that she’s _made_ it, gotten herself up high enough to get a good look around, hopefully get her bearings, and maybe even figure out how in the hell she’s getting home alive and un-eaten. So, breathing as best she can and trying to not look down – or, in fact, think about the fact that there _is_ such a thing as down – she pulls up her binoculars and surveils.

And hey, good news! There don’t appear to be any immediate threats around her – no Highwaymen, no camps or settlements of assorted other bad people (or people of any kind, for that matter), no signs of any Monstrosities, and – _really_ handily – no Burns or Bliss fields! Of course… there’s the slightly _less_ good news that the nearest recognizable landmark is the distant, hellish spire of New Eden. Which is both something that gives _no_ comfort, and which is… a very long way off from where she’s at (which _still_ puts it too close for her comfort). And even if it _does_ give her a direction… and even if she _can_ manage to get around it without running into any of Those Cult Bastards… there’s also the fact that _it_ is a lot closer to her than _home_ is.

Slowly, breathing steadily through her nose and biting down on the inside of her cheek, Carmy lowers her binoculars down and leans back against the tree.

“Ok… I can do this.” She nods once, breathing out long and slow. “Yep. I can… definitely do this. No worries. I just gotta… make it across an entire regions. Alone. With one gun and two bullets. Through who knows what.” She nods again. “Yeah. Yeah that’s all. I can do that.” She nods, one more time, to seal the deal.

She can do it.

And she will.

Once she climbs back _down_ the stupid tree.

Shit.

And Plan G’s looking better all the damn time.

##############

Aside from nearly breaking her neck falling down the last fourth of tree, the slow trek towards home is going pretty well – there’s no sign of Highwaymen, no crazed loners or bands of nomadic crazies, and the only animals she sees are the herbivorous ones that she keeps enough distance from to avoid startling.

Figures her good luck wouldn’t last.

Carmy scrambles behind the thick trunk of an oak, feet skidding in the loam and heart pounding up in her ears, palms sweaty and knuckles white as she clutches the rifle close to her chest, air thick and choking in her throat as she’s torn between needing to _breathe_ and needing to be _silent_ , needing to stay small and hidden and not get –

There’s a burst of thunder behind her, heavy boots pounding on the ground and a frantic swell of voices making her stomach jump up her throat as she ducks low, cringing farther back against the tree, hoping against hope that she can disappear into it and not get seen.

Something snaps off to her left – the earsplitting -crack- of a branch under a heavy foot – and it takes just about everything she’s got to not _scream_.

She freezes, eyes wide and blinded with fear, heart stopped and lungs screaming and –

From the corner of her eye she sees a shape – tall and burly and _human_ – break from behind a tree, charge up to where she’s hiding…

And keep going.

She watches him go, doesn’t dare relax, doesn’t dare move or blink or even take a breath until he’s vanished from sight, until other figures flood past her and follow him, until the panicked voices of the small army are fading into the distance. Then, and only then, does she give in and _collapse_ , muscles turning to water and joints folding like old cloth, the world rushing up around her ears as she slumps down onto the ground, limbs twitching like someone’s run a live current through her, her eyes fixed on the distant point where the damn _Boogeyman_ just disappeared.

And then she pukes.

_They’d almost – I nearly – if he’d **seen** me –_

She pukes again.

It’s not the first time she’s seen them… but it’s _never_ been like this. They’ve always been far off, seen through binoculars and from behind high walls, and – most importantly – she’s never been _alone_.

It shouldn’t be such a surprise, not really, but –

_Fuck._

Carmy waits a moment longer, listening with everything she’s got before staggering to her feet, spitting and scrubbing the back of her hand across her mouth, her eyes still fixed warily in the direction that _they’d_ just gone.

It’s childish, naïve, she knows that well enough but – but she’s always really, really _hoped_ she’d go her whole life without running into them.

Figures the worst day of her life’d just keep dicking her over.

Still – credit where it’s due and small mercies be praised – they’re _not_ going in the same direction that she is. So, fixing that though t in her mind and breathing as steadily as she can, Carmy edges her way – slowly, quietly – around the tree and starts to move.

She makes it a few yards before her foot comes down on something with a shatteringly loud _-snap-_.

Breath choking her all over again she freezes – waits for the force of an explosion, the pain of a trap, the screams that’ve plagued her dreams since childhood. Moments pass. Nothing happens. Finally, forcing a breath through her nose and into her lungs, Carmy looks down.

There’s a simple wooden cross under her foot, half hidden where it’s fallen in the loam, the off-white paint peaking through the leaves and dirt and two of its eight points splintered off from the rest by her boot.

_One of them must’ve dropped it…_

Without really thinking about it she’s kneeling down, shifting her foot and picking up the splintered pieces gingerly, tentatively like they’ll come alive and bite her if she’s not careful enough.

The two pieces fit back together, the barest line visible between them.

_It looks so… innocent._

It really does.

Just looking at it no one’d know how much _blood_ the little wooden cross represents.

_How many people has your owner killed?_

Like some invisible force is pulling at them, her eyes lift back in the direction that _they’d_ gone. Where the –

The…

They call themselves The Children. The Children of New Eden, all told and proper like. A shiny new name for the shiny new world they’d longed for and gotten, tied up with their shiny new identity – peaceful and loving and one with the New World, a light in the dark, an open hand in the unfriendly world born from The Collapse.

“They can call themselves whatever they want,” Carmy’s heard her mama sneer and snarl ever since she was a little girl, staring at the people and at their icons and into the distance at their tower, Kim Rye’s usually kind eyes full of hate and disgust and _pain_. “They can make whatever claims they want – lie to the world and each other and themselves… but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change a _damn_ thing. They’re _Peggies_.” And every time she spits the world like it’s poison, and there’s always at least one person around to mirror that hate, fingers running over scars and eyes going raw for want of something or someone. 

“Sick cult _fucks_ will _always_ be _Peggies_.”

Carmy’s eyes drift back to the little wooden cross in her hands – a faint flicker of red washing over its innocent face for a moment.

A surge of disgust floods through her and – lips curling back and away from her teeth – Carmy lets the broken cross fall from her hands and into the dirt, getting back to her feet and tearing her eyes away from the bloody icon with a sneer.

Her eyes lift from the icon and light upon two figures, less than a stone’s throw away, staring directly at her.

_Well… shit._

Carmy stares back at the figures – too shocked to be properly terrified.

She stares and she waits.

And then when a few seconds pass and _nothing happens_ …

Well then the terror kicks right on in, doesn’t it?

She’s suddenly very aware of how her rifle’s been slung over her shoulder and is _not_ immediately accessible in her hands. She can’t quite remember why doing that had seemed like a good idea, what with two obvious Peggies staring her down and her imminent death and or kidnapping looming…

Except…

The longer she stares the more she realizes that… well that time is _passing_ and everyone’s still _just_ staring at each other. The imminent bad things aren’t imminenting and –

The terror starts fading, drifting away alongside the shock, and Carmy _looks_ at the Peggies for a second.

And they definitely are Peggies – no one else in Hope County wears those one-with-the-Earth hide outfits, though these two have hoods to go with the rest of the ensemble, pulled up and over and shadowing their faces out entirely. The light’s bad, _just_ too bad and the distance is _just_ too far so that – helped along by the hoods and the way they’re both crouched low and curled in on themselves – she can’t really tell anything definitive about them, aside from – again – _Peggy_. But… but there’s something… _something_ about them that makes her think… that…

She can’t be _sure_ … but she thinks they look scared.

_What the **hell** …?_

And all of that passes in a few seconds that feel like a few days, and suddenly there’s a sound off in the distance – something or someone coming their way – and without a thought she turns to the new sound, any trace of the threat the two Peggies represent vanishing.

For about two seconds, after which it hits her that she just _turned her back on two **Peggies**_ and her throat goes dry and her blood runs cold even as she registers what _might_ be movement off in the distance, and – terrified all over again – she turns back, expecting to see her death right before it hits her and –

The two Peggies are _gone_.

Carmy stands there for a moment, staring at the place she’s _sure_ they’d just been, feeling small and scared and hopelessly disoriented.

Then the noise in the distance comes again – louder this time – and when she turns towards it she can _definitely_ see movement – a scattered line of several somethings coming her way from where the bulk of the Peggies had disappeared.

_Well…_

_**Shit.** _

##############

Night falls all the way and _somehow_ she’s still not dead, or captured, or captured as a lead-up to death. Hell, she’s actually keeping out of sight and ahead of the Peggies, and pretty easily at that.

It makes the whole thing _so much_ scarier.

She can hear them (always at a distance but not really getting any farther away), their voices low and frayed with frantic panic.

Carmy’s growing increasingly certain – near on to a hundred percent by this point – that they’re not actually after her, that they quite probably don’t even realize there _is_ a her, and that whatever it is that’s going on has _something_ to do with her two staring contest partners from earlier.

Which, if it’s true, means she’s gotten swept up in some _massive_ drama that’s got jack all to do with her.

Which… and maybe it’s how _long_ things are drawing out without anything actually _happening_ , but… well, somewhere along the line she’s left off being terrified and has just become kind of _extremely pissed off._

Fucking Peggy bastards involving innocent bystanders in their own internal drama like a bunch of savages. _Seriously_. It’s just downright _rude._

Also at one point she nearly gets herded into a cave that looks like it houses a Devil Bear, and that is _not_ what her day needs.

At least she’s still managing to head _mostly_ in the right direction. 

For now.

Maybe if she finds an unoccupied cave or something she can hunker down and give them the slip, just long enough…

And then something off to the right of her _explodes_ , breaking right through the growing monotony of the hunt and cutting off her frustrated line of thought as the patch of forest _erupts_.

She’s hitting the ground as soon as the first boom goes off, slipping and skidding across the forest floor, ducking half-under half-into a large bush at just about the same time everything else goes to hell – distant shouts and screams and the panicked cries of startled animals, pounding feet and thundering hooves and fluttering wings shattering through the air like a thunderstorm. By the time the second explosion hits – and _holy **shit**_ that’s an actual _grenade_ – the local wildlife’s already rushing past her, a herd of terrified deer booking it so fast that there’s a pink haze in the air, moss dust choking her as some of the deer pass close enough that their tailwinds pull at her hair and clothes. By the time the _third_ explosion goes off the animals have almost entirely abandoned the area, leaving only the shouts and screams of two-legged beasts.

Then the _gunfire_ starts.

Which is about the point that Carmy decides that _fuck_ going in the right direction, she needs to get _away_.

The action – whatever the hell it is – is happening almost due South. So, clutching her rifle and trying to breathe, Carmy darts out of her bush and starts heading West.

She keeps low, sticking to cover as best she can, eyes darting frantically about her and ears sharp to make sure the sounds of death and violence don’t start coming her way.

She _still_ nearly trips over the Highwayman’s corpse.

And then she staggers away, trying really, _really_ hard to not puke because _fuck_ , wha- what the actual _fuck_ did the Peggies _do_ to the guy?! He’s – people aren’t – and his – 

_Fuck_.

She breathing fast and heavy, mouth dry and eyes burning and stomach heaving, and she thinks she might actually be having some kind of breakdown.

_**Fuck.** _

She didn’t even know that even _Peggies_ did shit like that to people!

But that can’t matter right now.

But the sounds of battle – of whatever hell the Peggies are up to (and she never thought she’d feel bad for raiders, especially not ones that tried to kidnap and enslave her a day earlier, but holy shit she’s starting to feel for these Highwaymen guys because what the _hell?!_ ) –are still going, are getting worse and getting _closer_ , and even in the middle of her horror and panic she can feel her legs moving, keeping her moving _away_ from the fight, skirting farther and farther to the West.

Battle Clarity starts kicking in the more she moves – pushing its way up through all the fear and junk. The fight’s occupying a large swath of the forest, a meandering and highly inconvenient line cutting off access to the entire South. Judging by the sounds of it there’s a lot more Highwaymen than Peggies; however, the advantage of numbers doesn’t sound like it’s helping all that much. The foreign raiders sound _terrified_ – fair enough – and it sounds like they’re all bunched up and on the defensive. The Peggies, in contrast, are dead silent – all the better to bow-and-arrow you to death, apparently – but for the occasional fanatical invocation of their Father’s name – and, as best she can tell (without slowing or getting closer or anything else that’s she’s not going to do because she doesn’t want to _die_ ), they’ve dispersed themselves throughout the forest, striking from the shadows like so many physical night terrors.

Maybe this particular bunch of Highwaymen are new to being murderous raiding bastards. Maybe it’s how much more familiar the Peggies are with the area. Or, hell, maybe the Highwaymen saw what the Peggies had done to their buddy, and even raiders are capable of getting freaked when faced with the sheer, overwhelming force of concentrated _fucked-up crazy_ that the Peggies have to spare. Whatever it is, things don’t seem to be going all that well for the Highwaymen.

She’d probably get a vindictive little thrill about that if not for the fact that – if the raiders die – she’ll probably end up getting chased by the Peggies again, only with the added fun of them being all het up and bloodthirsty.

Carmy _really_ hopes she can get herself gone before that happens.

She’s made it past what sounds like the epicenter of the fight, edging tree by tree and bush by bush, and she’s gotten so far without any new bad happening that her skin feels raw – her mind and her instincts and every last nerve _screaming_ at her that something _bad_ is going to have to hit, and that it’s going to hit hard and it’s going to hit soon.

Honestly, when she rounds a tree and the bad _does_ hit it’s actually a bit of a relief.

There’s a little… space – not enough of it to qualify as a clearing – before her, one fallen tree and a random assortment of not-quite-boulders dotting the otherwise unoccupied patch of forest.

There’s also two shrieking Highwaymen, a dying one, and the two hooded Peggies from earlier.

None of them have seen Carmy, not as wrapped up in their own drama as they are, and as she stares at the scene before her the world slows to a crawl.

The bigger of the Peggies is in the near center of the space, grappling with a raider over a bow. The other Peggy – looking even smaller than before – is nearly on the ground, trying to get up with the drunken clumsiness of someone who’s just taken a blow to the head. The other fully living Highwayman is standing over his gurgling buddy, screaming incomprehensibly and fumbling to reload a pistol and finally succeeding, pointing it at the grounded Peggy and –

The world explodes back into regular motion as an arrow comes flying from the trees, catching the armed Highwayman in the back of the neck and erupting out of the front of his throat with a spurt of blood and a strangled cry, his body flailing and twitching wildly for a second before he topples over onto his dying buddy, the attempted death-wail and the sudden roar of _rage_ from the newly arrived Peggy distracting the last raider – just enough so the hooded Peggy can pull the bow free and clock him with it, landing a blow across his face so hard that there’s a sick -snap- of splintering bone as the raider goes tumbling to the ground. He barely has time to fully land when another arrow sinks deep into _his_ throat.

Carmy’s ducking even as all this goes down, going lower and half behind a tree, swearing up a storm inside her head as she watches the new Peggy head towards his hooded buddies, know that any second the three are going to head back into the fray and they’ll probably see her and then she’s –

And then the newcomer _is_ moving towards the others… but he’s _running_ , practically charging them and he’s yelling his head off, and the taller of the hooded Peggies is running _away_ from him (Carmy’s brain finally catching up enough to realize that he’d started running the _second_ he’d hit the raider), sprinting over to grab the small one, yanking the prone figure along with him before the little guy’s even half upright and –

The new Peggy catches up, Big Hoodie’s attempt at collecting his dazed friend slowing him enough for the new guy to tackle the bigger of the two – who now looks downright tiny in contrast to the newly arrive brute – and for a second time in the last few seconds Hoodie’s being grappled, struggling desperately as the giant Peggy tries to keep a hold on him, shouting out frantically as Little Hood hits the ground again.

And, unknown to all three of them, Carmina Rye witnesses the struggle from behind her tree and in a state of shock.

This is her chance – the rational portion of her brain shrieks. She needs to go, _now_ , while they’re distracted and before more Peggies show up. She needs to get away, get _home_ , alive and well if at all possible. Besides – ration shrieks again – they’re _Peggies_ ; whatever’s going on is nothing she wants a part in, nothing to do with her, and probably nothing the Sick Cult Fucks don’t deserve. She needs to _leave_.

The thought screams through her head as she stares – the giant Peggy (big, so much _bigger_ than the other two) struggling to restrain Hoodie, still bellowing for his fellow cultists; Hoodie, struggling and flailing, trying to get himself free, fighting the hold like an animal caught in a trap; and Little Hood, still reeling, staggering and stumbling and barely able to keep upright, and still trying to claw at the big guy, desperately trying to help Hoodie break free from the hold.

She _needs_ to leave.

Carmy stares at the small-scale Peggy civil-war, hears the battle slowly – like someone’s fast few breaths – dying down, and hears the sudden upswell of Peggy shouting… and she remembers the deathly stillness that the two hooded Peggies had watched her with, before _vanishing_ the moment she’d turned away.

She _needs_ to _leave_.

Carmina Rye swears, shoulders her rifle, and puts one of her last two bullets through the big Peggy’s skull.

Hoodie staggers forward as his captor falls to the ground, spinning and pulling an arrow from a nearly invisible quiver, nocking it and bringing the bow up and around, aiming dead on at Carmy in the exact moment she’s lowering her rifle.

The little proto-clearing freezes – Hoodie statue still as he points an arrow towards her face, Carmy turned to ice with the muzzle of her gun pointed uselessly down, Little Hood motionless and still half-collapsed on the ground, and all of them just _staring_ at each other.

Again.

And then – just as the rational part of Carmy’s mind is _cursing_ her for her _unprecedented_ stupidity – there’s a sudden falre of noise to the South of them, breaking into their standoff and –

She sees Hoodie tense and twitch, feels her heart stop, sees him release the bowstring and sees the arrow fly towards her and –

The arrow sails past her, wind brushing her cheek and pulling at her hair, and she hears the wet _thud-shlunk_ of the arrow sinking into flesh, hears the strangled cry and wet gurgle, and she doesn’t _bother_ looking back, is already darting forward, and she makes it to Little Hood a second after Hoodie does, grabs the guy’s other arm and between them they’re up and they’re moving, the smallest of the three of them _finally_ managing to get his feet back under him as they’re leaving the not-clearing and darting into the trees and –

They’ve barely made it twenty feet when a Peggy appears _in front of them_ , and they’re suddenly skidding and turning and nearly falling as they start running, Northeast now, because shit shit _shit_ there’s _more_ Peggies coming from the West, they’d probably been going to flank the Highwaymen but now they’ve cut off Carmy and the Hoods, and as they’re running she finally spots Hoodie’s quiver and it’s _empty_ – and ain’t that a thing, she’d used her second-to-last bullet to get him free and he’d used his last arrow to save her life and now they’re all _fucked_.

The Peggies’ voices are baying out – the words lost in their haste and her panic and whatever fervor’s driving their pursuers – but the tone, the _feel_ of it all too clear.

They’re being _hunted_ – three little deer running through the woods, the wolves behind and below and slowly closing in around them, hungry and anticipating the _kill_.

They’re moving faster – Little Hood finally seems to have shaken most of the blow or whatever he took to the head, and has gone from being dragged by them to _outpacing_ them by several feet, and every once in a while he’ll veer off sharply, Hoodie following the change in course instantly and Carmy copying a beat later, each veer taking them away from Peggies that seemed to just _appear_ right where they’d been going. It’s thanks to this – to Little Hood’s almost _uncanny_ awareness of their surroundings and the pursuing Peggies – that they’re working their way through the woods, staying one step ahead.

There’s no way in hell it can last.

Hell, it’s honestly a miracle they’ve lasted as long and well as they have, and Carmy can tell the miracle’s just about run out. Her legs are starting to feel like molten lead, muscles burning and growing heavier, each frantic step sending spikes of pain up from her feet and through her bones all the way up into her hips. Breathing _hurts_ – like she’s trying to inhale ice water and ethanol with each gasp, like there’s a thornbush growing in each lung, and every inch she moves is making them grow, their points cutting her to ribbons from the inside. And her heart… well, frankly, she’s trying not to think about how her heart feels; she’s scared enough as it is. She’s hit her utmost limit, run screaming _past_ it, and she’s _still going_. And it can’t last.

It can’t last for her new traveling companions either. From what little attention she can pay it doesn’t _look_ like the Hooded Twins are in as dire straits as she is… but they’re _definitely_ starting to run on fumes. Hoodie keeps stumbling – never bad enough that he goes down, but enough that he’s keeping pace with her, and it’s happening more and more frequently. Little Hood is showing the least signs of strain, keeping ahead of them and keeping sure footed, which is particularly shocking given the clumsy state he’d been in when she first saw him; however, Carmy’s got enough wherewithal to notice that each new detour they take is a little more jarring, a little more frantic, brings them progressively closer and closer to their hunters. It’s not as obvious as it is with Hoodie – just like how it’s not as obvious on Hoodie as it probably is on her – but she’s got a sense that Little Hood’s just about done in too.

And Carmy’s pretty sure the Peggies have figured that out.

Their followers seem to have settled into a rhythm – a steady pace that probably wouldn’t be keeping up so well if Carmy and the Hoods weren’t going past what they can handle. And they _can’t_ copy that strategy because the Peggies have a numbers advantage, and because – while they’re going slower – they’re maneuvering themselves so that soon – very soon – they’re going to have the trio fenced all the way in. And if _that_ happens, given the state the three of them are in…

It’s not going to be good.

In fact, unless _something_ happens to drastically change their circumstances _soon_ , it’s going to be _fucking horrible_.

Hoodie stumbles again, bad enough that one knee scrapes along the ground, and Carmy’s a few steps behind and manages to get a hand on his arm to pull him back upright and –

And then _something_ happens.

More specifically, _three_ somethings happen.

First, they come up alongside an outcropping of rocks, sort of a lead-up to a little spike of mountain, and she can hear the sudden shift of movement from their pursuers, putting more of them at their back and easing things up to the South.

Second, the moon, that’s been dancing around the clouds, all slippery and illusive, comes all the way out and lights the forest _up_.

And third… Carmy realizes where they are.

And then, through the fog of fear and exhaustion and adrenaline, she gets an _idea_.

She doesn’t waste any time thinking about it, just throws herself forward, tugging Hoodie with her by the grip she’s got on his arm as she goes. There’s a split-second of resistance from him, but she must look like she’s got a plan because a second later he’s running alongside her on the new course and, when Carmy turns her head to try and catch Little Hood’s attention, the smallest of their group has already caught on and caught up, falling into step right alongside them as Carmy leads them down South and further East, weaving through the trees and more and more through the rocky outcroppings, closer to the swell of mountain and down a little gully and –

There it is.

She’s either about to get them free and clear, or get them _all **killed**_.

She’s not holding Hoodie’s arm anymore, but she still feels him tense, _feels_ the surge of confused shock and horrified realization from her companions like electricity in the air, a sense of ‘oh fuck me _no_ ’ coming from them both.

_You and me both, guys, you and me both._

And then the Battle Clarity’s settling in again, the pain and debilitating exhaustion fading far enough into the background that she can focus, can lead Hoodie and Little Hood past the mouth of the cave, can slow just enough to turn, to take in the world behind them, watch as three of the Peggies come into her field of vision, moving closer and closer and then – just as they reach the far mouth of the cave – she pulls her rifle up, _prays_ , and fires her last bullet past their heads and into the darkness.

The world hangs – still and silent, like a thrown ball of glass at the peak of its arc – for a breath.

Then it _**roars**_.

She’s already turning, already pushing her overworked legs to charge after the Hoods and get _away_. Even still she sees the Devil Bear come crashing and screaming out of its cave, the behemoth – body a patchwork of dark, mangy fur, sickly green and yellow moss, and the blinding white of protruding bone – tearing through the Peggies in its rage, sheering one Peggy into two, picking another up in its jaws and shaking her like a dogtoy, screams and the snapping of bones rising through the air alongside the hellish roars and the hail of panicked gunfire.

The sounds echoing through the air and the sights still flashing before her eyes blur together, swelling higher and higher in a medley of horror, and suddenly Carmy can feel the calm of Battle Clarity give way, spider-leg cracks dancing through it, growing and spreading and flaking and her muscles are tensing her legs are locking she’s slowing down can’t breathe can’t blink she’s –

A hand clamps down on her forearm, spinning and pulling her in one yank, and there’s a _scream_ in her throat when she turns far enough and suddenly she can see Hoodie again, his hand gripping her arm as he pulls her along, Little Hood back out front and leading the way, due East this time, and _finally_ her legs are moving again.

They run, tired and unsteady and in overworked agony, Carmy and Hoodie still connected by his hand and her arm, keeping pace and staying together and keeping each other upright, and Little Hood struggling ahead as their guide.

They run, a cacophony of screams and roars behind them, the sounds steadily fading into the distance.

They run, in the dark and through the unfamiliar woods, no direction but _away_.

They run.

##############

Carmy’s not sure how much longer they run – long enough for the sounds of the Peggies and the Devil Bear to fade completely, long enough for her vision to start sparking and for each stabbing breath to taste like copper – before Little Hood veers sharply, leading them into a little cave, nearly invisible behind a thick veil of hanging vines.

They stagger inside, and Carmy barely makes it past the entrance before her limbs give out entirely. 

She’s unconscious before she even hits the ground.

##############

Carmy dreams of a world on fire, rivers of blood and forests of bone, of being buried alive and hollowed out and filled with poison and rot. She dreams of a charred-black bird with broken wings and bloody feathers, of a beautiful serpent spanning and strangling and poisoning the world, of a wool-coated wolf and a horned lamb with razor sharp teeth clinging to one another and struggling within a crimson river.

She wakes gasping in unfamiliar darkness, choked whimpers and strangled sobs whispering through the air, and the press of warm, trembling bodies against her side.

Exhaustion hits her, her eyes close again, and she falls into oblivion.

##############

She wakes up with a beam of light across her eyes, a body lit from within with fire, a heavy tongue and bone-dry mouth, and the overwhelming _need_ to _pee_.

It takes a second to get upright – and the effort it takes makes her seriously consider putting up with the indignity of wetting herself if only she doesn’t have to move – but get upright she does, and from that point she manages to hobble outside on rubber legs, somehow staying upright long enough to locate and utilize a nearby bush.

Eventually, _one_ need seen to at least, she gets back into the cave – steadily and gracefully and not at all like the world’s most drunken ragdoll, and no one’s around to say otherwise. 

She’s a couple of feet in – judging by the clawed up walls and piles of deer bones scattered around it looks like the cave’d belonged to a hellcat at some point, though a thick carpet of undisturbed moss, hosts of spiderwebs, and the general smell of dust and not-fresh-blood-and-death tell her that kitty hasn’t been home in quite some time – when something moves in a few feet away from her, right next to where she’d passed out, locking her rubbery muscles down right before her brain clicks back on, and in a rush the events of the previous day hit her.

_Oh yeah… I’m not alone._

Slowly, Carmy turns her head, and once again she finds herself having a staring contest with the Hood twins.

She stares. And stares. And _stares_ , her mind blank and numb as she tries to process what she’s seeing.

For their part, the twins stare right on back, heads barely upright and eyes so blurry with exhaustion that they may not actually be seeing her.

They’re tucked up against the wall, a tangle of limbs that’s slowly – very slowly – unraveling upon her entrance, hoods fallen down at some point during the night – and morning, and most of the afternoon, judging by the sky outside – and neither really seeming to care all that much, Hoodie slowly trying to lever himself to a seated position against the wall and Little Hood lifting a heavy hand to try and push a veil of hair out of… _her_ face. Because… yeah, hoods down and enough light shining through the cave, Carmy can finally see that the little one’s _definitely_ a girl.

She’s kind of hung up on that detail – for lack of anything else – when the whole lack of hoods thing really sinks in, and then –

Then a few more details hit her in rapid succession.

First – they’re both… really pretty. Kind of weirdly, _distractingly_ so. Pale skinned (like the kind that usually means Bunker-dweller, but without the unhealthy chalkiness), and fine featured, soft and smooth and… and _pretty_.

Second – she was _a lot_ more on point when she’d dubbed them the Hood _Twins_ than she’d actually expected. Because – differences in height and build, and in hair and eye color aside – they look too much alike to not be siblings, and they’re definitely the same age, which –

Well.

Which leads to, third – their _age_.

_Holy shit…_ Carmy stares, feels her jaw go a little slack as the pieces click together inside her mind. _They’re younger than I am._

Because yeah, they _are_. By a year or two, unless she’s entirely mistaken and she really doesn’t think she is. On top of the softness – which is definitely an age thing as well as a basic pretty thing – there’s a distinct coltishness to their still tangled limbs, a promise of growth to come that’s only now – now that she isn’t terrified out of her wits or running for her life – registering for her.

All these facts sink in for Carmina Rye and… she has absolutely _no idea_ of what to do with them.

So she stares at the twins.

The twins stare right on back at her.

Within a few seconds the general awkwardness of the whole situation rather handily crushes any other potential emotion under heel.

So, after a second, she walks back over to where she’d passed out, slumps back against the cave wall, and slides back down onto the ground again – still staring at the twins.

The twins stare back. 

For about three seconds.

Then, very nearly as one, they curl themselves back together, close their eyes, and within moments they’re asleep.

Carmy keeps staring.

Then, deciding that they’ve got the right idea, she follows suit.

##############

She wakes up again – probably a few hours later – with Little Hood crouched over her, about three inches from her face. 

Somehow, Carmy does not scream, wet herself, or punch the other girl in the face.

Instead she stares for a long moment. Then she reaches out, places one finger on the younger teen’s forehead, and very slowly pushes her back.

“Excuse you.” Her voice is so level you could lay furrows with it. “ _Boundaries_.”

Little Hood stares past the finger and down into her eyes, blinks… and smiles, pretty as the sunrise. Then – just as Carmy’s _seriously_ considering punching – she holds out her hand.

There’s a little wooden cup in it.

There’s _water_ in the cup.

Carmy stares at the girl. Then she stares at the cup. 

The girl stares back. The cup doesn’t have eyes so it just sits there in her hands.

_Well_ then.

Slowly – feeling like she’s just worked a whole week in the fields and then got run over by a herd of deer – Carmy pushes herself upright, takes the cup, and knocks it back as fast she can without spilling any of it.

It tastes kind of like dirt and moss, is still warm from boiling, and is very possibly the best thing she’s ever put in her mouth. _Ever_.

She holds the last swallow in her mouth for a second, eyes fallen shut in ecstasy as she lets it wash around her mouth, bringing some hint of moisture back after the hell-run they’d pulled off... whenever it was it’d happened. Finally though, her throat starts protesting that it’d like some more moisture too, so she swallows the water down and, just a touch grudgingly, opens her eyes again.

Little Hood is still crouched down over her legs, staring at her, head cocked to the side like a contemplative dog.

Carmy briefly considers reiterating her point about personal space. For all of three seconds, after which she decides that there’s _so many_ more important things to deal with at the moment. “So,” she croaks out, holding the cup up and jiggling it back and forth a little, “is there more of this?”

The other girl blinks, tilting her head the other way. Then another huge grin breaks out on her face, and suddenly there’s a slender, milky white hand reaching for her free, glove covered one, pulling her carefully upright and tugging her towards the back of the cave, where Hoodie’s kneeling down over a little campfire, a battered old metal pot suspended above the flames by a rather impressive array of tied together sticks. He looks up as they approach, blinking slowly as his sister tugs Carmy over and – finally letting go of her hand – starts filling her empty cup up with water from a second little pot that’s set off from the fire. 

Carmy, not really knowing what else to do, lifts her free hand and waves. “Hi.”

Hoodie stares at her. Blinks. Then, very, very slowly, raises one of his hands in the air, and waves back.

Another awkward moment passes.

“Right then.” Carmy sighs finally, rolling her eyes and suddenly past caring, pulling her eyes off the silent, staring boy and nodding her thanks to the girl who’s now standing – also awkwardly – somewhat between then. She raises the refilled cup towards Hoodie and sighs, “Great talk,” before knocking it back.

Just before her field of vision moves, she could _swear_ that the boy’s lips twitch upwards.

A few minutes later they’re all settled around the fire, Carmy taking over the water boiling duties while Hoodie busies himself tending a particularly nasty looking gash on his sister’s head (and _yikes_ , no wonder she’d been staggering around like she was sloshed) and said sister attends to the important business of drinking from a second cup and staring at Carmy.

She’s been on worse camping trips, honestly.

Though...

“So,” she drawls the word out at long last, pouring the sufficiently boiled water into the cooling pot, then refilling the boiling one from a third, bigger pot – more of a pail really – that’s been filled from… somewherever. Her eyes are fixed on what she’s doing – because what her week _doesn’t_ need is third-degree burns, no thank you – but she can see the twins twitch a little from her peripheral vision, Hoodie kind of glancing at her as he dips a wad of cloth into a little bowl full of boiled water, letting it cool for a second in the air before washing some of the dried blood and dirt from his barely wincing sister. Carmy sets the pail back down and, refusing to feel self-conscious or anything, looks directly over at them. “About yesterday. Or,” she shrugs a little, a little prickle of electricity running along her skin as the twins go a little bit still and start looking more intently at her, “you know, whenever all that was. Should I… be worried about all that?” 

The twins blink at her. In unison. It’s _seriously_ unsettling.

But in for a bullet, in for a clip and all that, so Carmy swallows down against the prickle – now running up and down her spine – and gestures back towards the world outside. “The whole… Peggies hunting you two down thing? ‘Cause, and no offense here,” they blink again, and the prickle along her spine goes up a notch, “but I’m not really looking to get involved in any weird cult-things, so whatever’s going on with you guys and your people –”

Something in their eyes _changes_ , making the atmosphere in the cave go deathly cold and her mouth close with a _snap_.

Then, again in perfect unison, the twins tilt their heads, still staring at her – too intensely and appraising and _shit_ everything inside Carmy’s _screaming_ , some distant, _primal_ part of her pissing itself in terror as a pair of apex predators circle closer and closer and closer and –

Hoodie blinks.

And just like that the tension in the cave snaps, a low shudder running through both twins, Hoodie sighing once through his nose and Little Hood looking away, ducking her head and looking… looking _hurt_ – sad and tired and not at all unlike a beaten dog.

And Carmy just stares at the two, dizzy from the mood whiplash and suddenly feeling like an absolute _shit_.

She’s trying to think of something to say – _sorry, I just assumed you were part of the cult because you’re dressed exactly like them and they were trying to take you alive and that’s what anyone would think, my bad, I mean that genuinely, honestly, please stop looking like that_ – when, slowly and _very_ deliberately, Hoodie moves; leans out a little, index and middle finger together and – again, _very_ deliberately – starts drawing something in the dirt.

Moments later he pulls back, an eight-pointed cross on the ground between them.

Hoodie straightens backup a little, eyes going back to hers, and for a second everything fades away as Carmy gets swept up in how extremely, overwhelmingly _**Blue**_ his eyes are.

And then, just as his Blue – capital B definitely required here – gaze feels like it’s going to literally drown her, Hoodie looks back down.

And he _spits_ on the drawing.

Carmy stares down at the ground, the spot of mud in the center of the Eden cross. Then, after a second, she looks back up at the twins.

Then, with a little sigh of her own, she nods and starts divvying out water again, cooled water going into a provided canteen and boiling water going to cool. “Right on, fuck those assholes.” She glances up again, trying not to get affected by the profound _relief_ that’s sweeping over the twins, Little Hood beaming up at her again and Hoodie’s lips quirked upwards as he doctors his sister’s head. Her lips twitch a little too – and ok, maybe she’s a _little_ affected, shoot her – and she reaches over to grab the now empty pail. “So… _where’d_ the water come from? Precisely?”

##############

They stay in the cave for the rest of the day – all hour or so of it – and between them they manage a pretty decent dinner of nuts, berries, and pemmican (Carmy’s, found in the backpack she’d snagged off one of the Highwaymen who’d taken her a few days earlier), and some fairly wilted carrots, apples, and deer jerky (that itself tastes weirdly _like_ apples) from the twins’.

Then they all pass out again, because frankly they’ve both earned it and really _need_ it, and when Carmy wakes up the next morning she almost feels human again.

They’re around the campfire again, Carmy’d gone with Hoodie on a more intensive water run first things, and by the time they got back Little Hood had produced a quartet of rabbits from somewhere or other, so they’ve got those going over the fire while Hoodie stirs come kind of grain into a pot of water.

The morning, thus far, has been calm, peaceful, and weirdly domestic, and – again thus far – no cultists or raiders or anything have showed up to try and capture-murder them, so they’re actually starting to _relax_ a little.

Which, on top of letting them actually recuperate ( _yay_ ), has given Carmy the opportunity to actually _look_ at her new companions.

Which has presented the revelation that the twins’ eerie silence isn’t a choice – or, at least, not _just_ a choice. She’d come back from answering the call of nature to find them sitting by the campfire, hands moving rapidly and fluidly in some kind of sign language, and whatever exactly was keeping them quie- well… keeping them uncommunicative earlier doesn’t seem to be a concern anymore, and they’ve been downright chatty ever since. Which is great but for the part where Carmy has _no clue_ what they’re saying. They’re still coming across as friendly though, so she doesn’t _think_ she’s being threatened or insulted, which is good; and, also, she’s pretty sure she’s worked out the sign for “water” (the index, middle, and ring fingers held in a w-shape and tapped against the chin), so hey! Hope for the future of communication.

Right now the twins seem to be having some great debate, and she’s magnanimously decided to not be offended at how they seem to be including her in whatever issue’s at hand, while simultaneously neglecting to acknowledge her physical presence or – apparently – considering that she _might_ just have her own opinions and agency.

_Teenagers._

But then… well…

She’s… kind of getting the impression that, up until now, considering people other than each other hasn’t been _that_ big of a priority for them. And that them involving her in _any_ respect is, actually, kind of a big deal.

That thought ends up getting shelved for the moment, as Hoodie’s apparently decided his stuff is done, and he starts dishing up the thick oatmeal-ish stuff, throwing some of the remaining berries into it and handing the little wooden bowl over with a smile – Carmy first and then his sister, then finally himself. Carmy accepts the food with a smile of her own and a nod of thanks, tucking in ( _and the grain tastes like apples too, what the hell?_ ) all while watching the twins some more.

And _seriously_ , now that she’s not half dying of exhaustion it _is_ a little distracting how pretty they are. The fair skin and fine features kind of make them look like porcelain dolls from the Old World, like the one a trader had brought through Prosperity back when Carmy’d been eleven, only not missing half a face and being made of raw nightmares. And both of them have the plumage to own the doll-prettiness, albeit in different ways. Little Hood – who, yeah, is _tiny_ ; five foot even, _maybe_ , and built long limbed and delicate enough to look like she should snap in half without any effort (at least she had until she’d rolled up her sleeves to clean the rabbits, at which point Carmy’d seen that there’s _nothing_ but pure muscle there) – has a long mane of spidersilk fine hair, a liquid glossy brown so dark it’s nearly black, which should probably make her pale skin look anemic but instead just makes her look all ethereal. In contrast Hoodie – a little taller than Carmy at about five-six – has his freckled skin all warmed by a riot of shoulder length hair redder than their campfire, the color of it so vibrant it’s a little startling. All of which is dangerous enough on its own… but then there’s the _eyes_ – Little Hood’s a brilliant Green, capital G required in the same way Hoodie’s are capital B Blue, the colors so deep and saturated that…

It’s just…

Ok, maybe it’s just that it’s been a while since Carmy’s been near anyone who’s both pretty and possibly available, but…

But the twins just don’t feel _real_. Not entirely.

Part of it’s the looks, admittedly – the pretty and the vibrancy. But a lot of it’s… well, it’s something she just can’t pin down – some sort of instinctive, primal sense that she’s dealing with something intrinsically… _other_. It’s all just…

Well…

The more she stares at them – and, by this point, she’s probably coming off as a _massive_ creeper – the more she can’t help but think of one of the stories her mom’d used to tell when she was a little girl. It’d been a Fairy Tale, from way back when in the Old World – a story about twins, one with black hair and one with red and both impossibly beautiful, born from two rose trees and utterly devoted to each other, who went on adventures and were connected to the natural world in a way people just weren’t. Sure in the story of the twins’d both been girls, but still, watching her twins…

_Snow White and Rose Red, lost in the woods and chased by the Big Bad Wolves, waylaid by Highwaymen, stumbling across a lone Huntswoman… a regular Post Apocalyptic Fairy Tale._ She can’t quite help but huff a little laugh into her sort-of oatmeal (or would that be porridge?) as the thought hits her. _There was even a bear._

The girl’s glancing over at her, Green eyes bright where they’re set in white skin, under dark brows and behind a veil of dark hair, pretty as a winter’s night –

Carmy nearly snorts cooked grain up her nose, laughing at her own dramatics and the semi-bemused semi-bewildered looks the twins are shooting her, and she shoots a little wink at the other’s girl’s arched eyebrow.

_Snow White, Fairest of Them All,_ she giggle-snorts again at the confused puppy look on the girl’s face. _Master Pathfinder and Bane of Rabbits._

The rest of breakfast goes by fairly uneventfully, Carmy still occasionally making herself giggle, and the twins carrying on a protracted conversation about something or other (probably about how weird she is). It’s… nice. The lull in the middle of the story, the chance for the heroes to catch their breath after their daring escape.

It can’t last though.

They’ve finished eating, Carmy’s helping Hoodie ( _he **does** kind of look like a Rose, actually…_) clean up, scouring out the bowls with handfuls of damp sand while Little – actually, screw it, while _Snow_ finishes up with the rabbits, when that thought hits her.

And then, just like she had back in the proto-clearing, Carmina Rye does something really reckless and probably stupid.

“So,” she rinses the last of the sand and food particles out of the bowl, handing it back to Rose ( _ **so much** better than ‘Hoodie’_), sounding much calmer and more at ease than she actually thinks she should be. “I don’t know what your plan is,” assuming they’ve _got_ one, which – going by the look Snow’s shooting her brother and the way he’s gone just noticeably still – she’s not entirely sure they _do_ , “but… well I’m from Prosperity,” something flickers through them, a vague degree of familiarity that she consciously decides to worry about later, “down South? And… I mean, I get it if that’s too close by to New Eden,” at the _name_ they flinch, Rose going painfully tense and Snow actually _baring_ her _teeth_ ( _oh…kay…?_ ). “But…” She trails off for a second, the whole act of impulsively inviting two runaway cultists she met maybe two days ago back to her place suddenly becoming really awkward.

But awkwardness never stops her for long.

It is the Rye way.

So, after a few quiet seconds, Carmy just sighs a little and shrugs. “I mean I was planning to avoid that place _anyway_ – if you two wanted to come I figure we’ll just avoid it _more_."

And suddenly the twins are still again, but differently so, less scared and angry and more confused and surprised and… something. Something that leaves Carmy suddenly feeling a little daunted and overwhelmed, anxious, like someone’s thinking about giving her something more important than she can probably handle.

It’s really uncomfortable, and she adds it to her list of ‘things I’ll worry about later.’

“You don’t need to worry about reprisals or anything, if that’s the problem,” because _yeah_ , they definitely look worried about something, and that seems as likely an option as anything. “Prosperity’s just about the most secure place around. And,” she feels her lips quirk up into a very Resistance Strong grin, “we’ve got some experience handling Peggies.” And then her smile slips, because the more she’s talking the more the twins are getting worked up – Snow getting all twitchy (a frantic blend of what looks like fear and guilty hope) and Rose slowly shutting down entirely. “They won’t be able to get at you,” she adds, then kind of regrets doing so when that just makes things worse, “we… we won’t let them…”

_Ok, what the hell is even going on right now?_

The twins have broken off into a weirdly strangled exchange, signs clipped and overlapping with – for some reason – repeated gestures made towards Snow’s hair and Rose’s eyes. Finally some point or other seems to get punctuated, and Rose turns back to her with a pinched expression.

And tugs pointedly at his distinctly Peggy clothes.

_Oh._

_Duh._

“No one’s going to turn you guys away for that.” For some reason the very thought of it sets her teeth on edge, like she _hasn’t_ only known the twins for a few days at best. “I mean, it’s kind of obvious you’re not spies or anything, and I’ll vouch for you,” _apparently._ “And even if someone _did_ decide to be a dick,” which, ok, fair, it’s a possibility; sadly not even Prosperity is free of assholes, “Pastor Jerome would sort them out, so that wouldn’t be a problem and – what?”

The twins are back to _staring_ at her.

And, not for the first time, Carmy finds herself wondering whether she’s grievously erred.

Then, slowly and tentatively, Snow looks up at her with a quietly desperate expression, and very deliberately signs something – drawing her index finger and thumb twice across her throat in a horizontal line.

Carmy stares back, decidedly confused, and her lips are parting to point out that she has _no clue_ what that means and –

And…

And that’s when she gets it.

“Oh.”

A band at the throat.

A priest’s collar.

Like the one Pastor Jerome’d used to wear.

_Well,_ she stares, feeling a little cold and wider eyed, at the increasingly freaked looking defecting-Peggy twins, _I guess that explains the reaction._

_Also? **Shit**_

Carmy’s aware of a lot of what went down before the bombs fell, back during The Reaping, is probably a lot more aware of it than anyone who didn’t directly live it. So she is, of course, aware that there was _stuff_ between Pastor Jerome and the upper ranks of Eden’s Gate, particularly with… with _Him_. So she can only _imagine_ what the twins must’ve grown up hearing about one of the nicest, best men in the whole damn _world_ … but it can’t _possibly_ be but _horrifying_.

Poor kids probably think she’s promising them the advocacy of the damn _Boogeyman_.

“No, it’s ok!” Both of the twins look like they’re about to get _really_ worked up, and Carmy jumps on that before either one loses it. “Look, whatever you’ve heard about Pastor Jerome, he’s _not_ like that!” And that seems to work… sort of. Instead of looking like they’re going to explode the twins now look really, _really_ confused. But, again, not exploding, so Carmy metaphorically ducks her head and charges forward. “He’s great, I swear. Hell, he’s _better_ than great, he’s – no, I’m _serious_.” There’s _so much_ confusion now, and Rose is starting to edge closer to his bewildered sister, looking at Carmy like she’s finally revealing herself to be completely insane. And, as much as she _gets_ it… Carmy finds herself bristling up a little, on her own behalf as well as the Pastor’s. “I _am._ ” And _screw it_ , she narrows her eyes right back at Rose, insult coloring her voice ever so slightly. “Look, whatever they say about him in New Eden –” the twins blink, some of the confusion (and “oh shit she’s crazy”) going out of their faces, but Carmy’s on too much of a roll to even think about that, “– but Jerome Jeffries is a _good_ man; he’s not going to hurt you and he’s not going to let anyone _else_ hurt you,” her hands find their way to her hips, and she stares the twins down levelly, “so if that’s what you’re worried about you can just knock it the hell _off_. Trust me here,” she sighs, a little of the frustration bleeding out now that she’s vented, now that the twins don’t look like they’re going to explode or run for cover anymore. “I’ve known him most of my life – hell,” she actually laughs a little, the twins starting to look confused again, but in a more quizzical/less step-away-from-the-crazy-heretic way, “he’s basically _family_ , so I think I’ve got a pretty good read on him.”

And… the twins are staring at her again.

Gawking, really.

Well Snow is, anyway; Carmy’s increasingly getting the sense that Rose doesn’t _do_ overt anything.

And then, just as Carmy’s realizing that she may well have claimed kinship to the boogeyman and, consequentially, shot herself in the foot… the twins’ expressions change again, going thoughtful and – for Snow – a little bit… excited? Maybe even _hopeful_ , though for the life of her Carmy can’t think of _why_ and –

Snow makes the Pastor sign again, followed by a flurry of signs that leave Carmy staring blankly. Then, after a few _long_ seconds of vacancy, the younger girl gives a silent little sigh, re-signs Pastor… and points very deliberately at Carmy, eyebrows quirked upwards expectantly.

Carmy stares for a _long_ moment.

And then, with a burst of clarity, it hits her how – despite everything that’s passed, and everything they’ve done, and her mentally naming the twins _twice_ over… at no point has _anyone_ so much as _attempted_ to make introductions.

_Oh, for the love of…_

The urge to plant her face in her hands is _strong_.

But the twins are still staring at her, Snow (or whatever her name _actually_ is) is still pointing at her, everything very patient and expectant, and so Carmy only allows herself a momentary indulgence – eyes squeezing shut as she feels her face heat in embarrassment, and when she opens her eyes again she manages a smile that’s only _somewhat_ pained.

“I know Jerome because he’s been _super_ close friends with my parents since before the bombs – they were all locals and they were in the same Resistance cell.” And then, watching and getting increasingly confused by the _light_ that’s building up and up in the twins’ eyes, she manages a more genuine smile. “I’m Carmina, by the way.” She distantly notices the way her name makes the twins _stop_ , go abruptly still; but not enough to so much as slow down her ridiculously belated introduction. “Carmina Rye.” And like her mama’s standing at her elbow nudging her, Carmy’s hand pops up, extended towards the twins. “Nice to meet you…?”

Her hand hangs in the air, and the cave descends into perfect silence.

And _then_ the twins explode.

##############

Carmy’s pretty damn sure that mistakes have been made.

Granted, she’s not one hundred percent sure _what_ those mistakes _were_ , _when_ exactly they were made, or really even _who_ made them, but… yeah. Sometimes you look at a scenario and just _know_ – mistakes have been made.

_I thought only Moms could convey that much soul-crushing emotion and disapproval without having to vocalize._ She tilts her head a little, watching the twins’ argument from the safety of across-the-cave, just a little bit awestruck.

Because _yeah_. If raw emotion could be used as a fuel source than all of Hope could just tap into the twins and never need to worry about ethanol again.

It’s kind of impressive, really. 

The whole thing’d kicked off seconds after she’d introduced herself and – so far as she can work out – the crux of their argument is whether or not to take her up on her offer. Best she can tell, it seems that Snow is _passionately_ advocating that they go with Carmy, go to Prosperity, and go _yesterday_ – whereas Rose seems to be arguing for either leaving Hope County entirely, performing ritual suicide, or starting some kind of holy war (or, possibly, some combination thereof). At least, that seems to be the _bare bones_ of the argument – clearly there is _a lot_ more going on than she can parse out. That said… watching them _has_ provided her with two fairly startling realizations. For one thing, she’s finally managed to work out that their worked-up-ed-ness over the invocation of Jerome Jeffries was – in fact – probably _positive_ , and that the subsequent confusion was because she was basically telling them “whoever told you Jerome was amazing was wrong and a _liar_ , because he’s _amazing_!” And for another… she actually _does_ understand some of the twins’ language. Not a lot, not even a fair amount… but the longer the argument goes the more she realizes there are signs that she _does_ recognize.

It hits her, when it hits her, like a bolt of lightning.

They’re using signs from the Resistance’s old library of tactical hand signals.

Which, is a shock in and of itself; but, with that information combined with the insight about their reaction to Pastor Jerome’s name, Carmy’s starting to wonder if her twins were ever even Peggies to begin with, or whether they’re actually the kids of snatched Resistance folk. Sure they _say_ the Peggies don’t do that kind of thing anymore… but, so far as Carmy’s aware, things like honesty and integrity and not-abducting-innocent-people are only valued by the Peggies when they serve their cultish goals. And it _definitely_ explains more than it doesn’t...

Well, whatever’s going on, they feel strongly about it.

Snow’s going _crazy_ at the moment, signing so rapidly and passionately – impossibly fluid motions blurring through the air, big expressions and bared teeth, and her whole body getting more and more behind each sign – that her half of the argument is starting to look like some form of interpretive dance. _Particularly_ impressive, though, is Rose, who’s somehow packing all the emotion displayed by his sister into expressions and signs a fraction of the size, so much passion compacted so much that Carmy half expects the air around him to start exploding at any second. They’re still going as strong now (probably a good _ten minutes in_ ) as when they started ( _makes sense – you can probably sustain an argument a **hell** of a lot longer when you don’t have to worry about losing your voice or anything_) and they aren’t really showing any signs of stopping.

So yeah.

Impressive.

Seriously though, whatever’s going on behind the scenes here must be _intense_ , given how they’re going at it; and Carmy _really_ feels like her not knowing what that drama is _might_ just cause her more problems in the near future. There’s three signs in particular that she keeps seeing, thrown out with _significantly_ more emotion and frequency than anything else, and something tells her that there’s a _lot_ of understanding she could pick up if she could figure them out. The first sign – index and middle fingers folded over the thumb, followed by the whole hand being pushed up and outward – is particularly enthusiastic, and is being used mostly by Snow, seems to be the cornerstone for her side of the argument really, and is frequently paired with some gesture towards Carmy herself (for some reason). The second – a closed fist with the thumb slightly extended and pressed against the chin – seems to be imbued with _intense_ sorrow and desperation, and both of them are using it like it’s the end all. And Carmy _strongly_ suspects that the third sign – open hand, fingers and thumb held straight and separate, positioned with the thumb touching the forehead – is a _particularly_ vile swear word, judging by the intense vehemence and _rage_ present whenever either of them uses it.

_Seriously_ – she’d _really_ like an accurate translations for those three signs if nothing else.

On the other hand, she’s pretty sure she _has_ worked out the signs for “stop being a pussy,” “hell no,” “because I said so,” “fuck this shit, no,” and “ _ **death.**_ ” Or their equivalents, at least.

So there’s that.

But yeah. Whatever the problem is… it’s no small thing.

Nor does it appear to be a resolved-any-time-soon thing.

Which is… a _slight_ problem, really.

So…

“Right.” With a huff of breath, Carmy hops back up to her feet, slinging her bulletless rifle up over her shoulder, opposite her stolen backpack, and starts moving, the twins’ hands going still as they blink – startled – out of their argument and turn to stare at her. Carmy smiles at them, trying not to let the growing pit of sickly hollowness inside her stomach show. “So not that sitting back on my ass in the middle of nowhere while you two bitch each other out isn’t fun – because it actually is – but…” She comes to a stop a few feet away from them, trying _harder_ not not let her emotions show. “Well, honestly I was _kind of_ hoping to be well on my way home by now, and by this point I’m pretty sure my parents are going to _kill_ me – _metaphorically_ speaking,” she adds quickly, because that kind of feels like something you should clarify when interacting with Peggies (no matter their origin, or how long they’ve been Peggies, or even whether they had a say in being Peggies). “So I… kind of need to get moving. Now.” Carmy can feel her smile go brittle when her twins flinch, Rose going all expressionless and Snow staring up at her like a startled/sad puppy.

_Keep it together, Rye._

“So I’m going to do that. If you manage to hash out… whatever _this_ is, and avoid killing each other,” there’s a brief flicker of warring indignation and embarrassment from both of them, and Carmy feels a little bolstered from it, pushing forward with a touch of a grin, “you’re both still more than welcome to come with. Assuming, of course,” her grin gets just a touch bigger, “that you can catch up.”

Two pairs of eyes – one Blue and one Green – go wide… and then _narrow_ at her.

Carmy feels a weird surge of gratification and victory, and she has to make herself not beam like a dork.

“Also,” she pushes on further, like she didn’t just mortally offend them on purpose, casually turning on her heels and detouring by the campfire, “I’m taking this.” She grabs up one of the bundled up rabbits, wiggling it in the air towards the still offended twins. “If you’re not coming with, then you can fight each other to the death over the rest or whatever.”

And with that she strolls over to the entrance of the cave.

And, upon reaching it, promptly stops.

She doesn’t _want_ to stop, but she does. She doesn’t _want_ to turn back, but she does. And she damned well _does not want_ to look over at the small, scared, _torn_ , lost and confused looks on her twins’ faces. But she does. Apparently her body’s decided to stop giving a damn about what her brain wants and has staged a mutiny. Damn it.

Carmy manages a smile, manages to keep it soft and warm and _genuine_ , and tries to force down the hollow pit of fear and guilt in her stomach ( _Why?! Why is there guilt?! Why do I **care**?! I don’t even **know** them!_) as she does. “Hey… whatever you guys decide on… be careful, ok?” Her throat closes up a little, and she makes herself smile brighter. “And thanks.”

And then she turns and walks away, stomach hollow and eyes burning.

She doesn’t make it a full fifty feet out of the cave before she _feels_ someone coming up from behind, a huge grin already breaking across her face as Snow saunters up beside her – silent and delicate as her falling namesake ( _I should **probably** try and learn their **actual** names at some point_).

“So.” If Carmy’s voice is just a little rough, no one’s going to call her on it. Not in any way that she’s likely to recognize as such, anyway. She glances over, grin huge, “You pulled out a victory in the end, huh?”

Snow meets her gaze, lips quirked upwards and eyes bright in triumph, and gives satisfied little toss of her distractingly pretty head.

“Well done.” Carmy’s fighting back a bubble of laughter even as she glances over her other shoulder. “And how’re _you_ holding up?”

Ghost-silent by her side, Rose barely spares her a perfectly flat look and keeps pace.

“Aw, cheer up big guy.” She claps a hand on his shoulder in commiseration, a bit of a giggle managing to break free even as she does so. “I’m sure you’ll get her next time.”

She’s not entirely sure, but Rose might _actually_ let out a pained little sigh.

Carmy’s grin gets bigger, and it takes everything she’s got to not give her own little celebratory head toss.

It’s early enough in the morning that the light’s still quite low, the ambient sounds of nature slowly growing around them, and – with a twin at either side of her – Carmina Rye’s feeling better about life than she had since a bunch of foreign raiders had torn her from her home and thrown her life upside down

She’s pretty sure what she’s feeling is _hope_.

Mixed with just a little bit of joy.

It’s nice.

“Now then…” There’s a little skip in her step as she moves forward, hiking her pack and her rifle up a little more securely on her shoulders, and flashing a brilliant grin from one twin to the next as they start the journey towards _home_.

“Do either of you have _any_ idea where we are?”


	2. Walkin' Us Back to Prosperity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _*vaguely unhinged sing-song* This took a lot longer to write than I was hoping it would... buuuut it's done and I'm pretty happy with it so what the hell. 8)_
> 
> _On another note! So I finished New Dawn (a while ago, actually, again this chapter took longer to write than I was hoping because of reasons) and... ok, I'm sorry but I just gotta ask. That ending...? Did… did everyone else see Joseph Seed's surprise son - Kylo Ren - take a bite out of a super-power granting LSD-apple and turn into a Te Kā Wendigo? Because that's what I saw and I'm... **pretty** sure I wasn't on drugs at the time - irl or in game. Which, I mean... if that **is** what really happened then... well played, Far Cry, I genuinely didn't see that coming. The apple and the wendigo part, I mean, not the Ethan turning on everyone thing, that was a given. So. Yeah. Hot damn, y'all, that game was really fun._
> 
> _Well, random silliness out of the way, here's the next chapter of the slightly **less** random silliness! Enjoy!_

So far as they can work out they’re roughly in the neighborhood of Bumfuck, Nowhere and Hell-If-I-Know, Hope County.

Which isn’t ideal.

Hell, Carmina even climbs another tree to try and get some sense of direction, and all that does is make things _worse_.

Who’d’ve ever thought that _not_ seeing the Spire of Eden’s Flame would be a problem?

The twins _are_ of some help, seeming to have an instinctive sense of the wilderness and of direction in general… but, given how far they apparently are from familiar territory, all they really contribute is “South is _that_ way.”

Well, confirmation of South and the advice that she _shouldn’t_ climb the tree infested with carnivorous moss. Which _is_ , admittedly, helpful.

But yeah. They’re kind of lost.

Carmy _thinks_ they’re somewhere on the edge of the old Whitetail region, probably not all that far from the Bliss Fields of No Man’s Land actually ( _yikes_ ), so – theoretically – all they need to do is just keep going South until things start getting familiar.

Yeah.

_**Just**_ go South.

It _sounds_ so very easy.

_Still,_ she thinks, a little grumpily, biting back a sigh and letting Snow pull her off course a little before she tramples through a cluster of blisterweed, _it’s not like we’ve got all that much **choice**._

So, keeping low and keeping quiet and keeping together, they go South.

################

“So,” she pipes up later that day, the three of them tucked away under a little overhang in the mountainside, finishing off the carrots and one of the rabbits. “The not-talking?” The twins blink at her, and Carmy suddenly wonders whether or not she’s about to be incredibly rude. But she kind of feels like she needs to know, so she keeps going anyway. “Is that a _can’t_ thing, or a _don’t_ thing?”

The twins keep staring.

Then, after a moment, Rose very deliberately raises his index and middle fingers – palm facing her for a second, then flicking inward a little.

Immediately after that there’s a brief, shared glance between the two younger teens; then, in a… well, not an _apologetic_ manner… more an _expository_ one, Snow elaborates on her brother’s terse response – cupping her hand and flicking it in a little arch over her chest (thumb touching first, then pinkie), followed by a quick line drawn up her throat with her index and middle fingers, and then the first sign repeated _much_ more emphatically, the obviously possessive content and the suddenly _very_ intent looks on each twin’s face underscoring the whole exchange pretty handily.

You don’t have to be a genius to get the message – to realize that this _means_ something to them.

Carmy still takes a second, mentally double-checking the conversation. “So… you _don’t_ talk; because your voices are _yours_.” It’s not _really_ a question, honestly, but there’s still a little bubble of relief when the twins nod. Humming a little, Carmy nods back and smiles. “Gotcha.”

And she goes back to food.

The twins stare at her for second, still and ever so slightly frowning, like that wasn’t the reaction they’d been expecting. Then, quick as it’d come, the confused suspicion _vanishes_ , the twins absolutely _beaming_ – first at her and then at each other – as they get back to their own meals.

Watching them as casually as possible, Carmy takes another bite of apple-flavored rabbit (everything they touch seems to turn to apples, and she’s given up on questioning it) and channeling all her utter _relief_ into the act of chewing.

_Thank. God._

The twins are _so_ damn quiet that she’d honestly started to worry that the Peggies had _done_ something to them.

Well… she’s _certain_ the Peggies did something to the twins ( _many_ somethings, most likely; and the sheer _possessiveness_ they’re indicating has _definitely_ got an unpleasant story attached), but it’s just a relief to know that throat-based mutilation wasn’t involved.

That said… there is at least _one_ – rather immediate – difficulty that this reveal puts before her.

“So…” She draws the word out, words arranging and rearranging themselves in her mind as she does, two pairs of impossibly vibrant eyes flickering back her way as she thinks of how best to ask her question without unintentionally being a condescending asshole or asking for something she doesn’t have a right to. “If I were to ask what your names are…” there’s a brief, startled rush on the twins’ pretty faces, “I don’t supposed there’s a way for you to tell me that I’ll be able to understand, is there?” She grins at them again, part hopeful and part sheepish. “Assuming you’re ok with telling me your names in the first place, that is.”

Their little circle lapses back into stillness and silence, a winning smile fixed on Carmy’s face and the twins looking quietly bewildered.

_Please just be realizing that you forgot to introduce yourselves. And **please** don’t let the answer be ‘our names are **ours**.’ I’ll accept that and it’d totally be your right, but it’ll make things so damn **awkward**._

Then, just as she’s _really_ getting worried that that _will_ be their answer (and about the point her cheeks kind of start to _hurt_ from holding the smile)… the twins lock eyes.

From the outside, Carmy can see something -click- between them, a _warmth_ passing between their eyes that makes her smile start to drop in awe, the sudden sense that she’s about to _see_ something, that she’s about to be _trusted_ with something precious and –

And then something else passes between the twins, brought to life by the barest crook of Rose’s eyebrow and spurred on by a sudden sharpness in Snow’s smile, and suddenly something _cold_ runs down Carmy’s spine.

She doesn’t get the chance to react to that – doesn’t really even get the chance to _process_ it before Rose has turned to her, smile warm as sunlight as he starts signing – palm pressed flat against his chest, then the middle and index fingers of both hands tapped twice at angles against each other, and then… then his fingers _fly_ in five interconnected signs that blur before her eyes. Carmy’s staring, only just managing to process that one of those signs had looked like an L, when Snow jumps in – smiling brilliantly and repeating the first two signs exactly, followed by five fluidly flying signs of her own, some of which Carmy _thinks_ her brother might’ve used, _maybe_ , but –

The twins are staring at her, expectantly, smiling at her like beautiful little angels, and a cold wash of understanding floods over Carmina.

“Right.” She smiles back and doesn’t bother to disguise the twitch in her eye. “’My name is…’” her smile gets a touch sharper, “and you’re not even going to _try_ and help me work out the rest of that.” Her eyes narrow. “Are you.”

And the twins just _stare back_ at her – all sweetness and light and uncontestable innocence.

_Unbelievable._

Her eyes narrow _more_. “And if I outright asked you to teach me how the alphabet goes for you…”

Snow cants her head in wide-eyed puppy confusion, and Rose – equally wide-eyed and guileless – signs something that _probably_ translates near to ‘what’s an alphabet?’

_This isn’t even like the talking thing._ Carmy stares flatly into the perfectly innocent faces of the twins, a profound sense of disbelief and insulted fury swelling up inside her chest, right alongside the ever growing realization. _They’re just **fucking** with me because they **can**._

_You miserable little **bastards**._

“ _Right_ ,” that morning’s sense that she’s _grievously_ erred has returned full force, and Carmy grins her way through it. “Great talk, guys, _seriously._ ” Her eyes narrow further as she _stares_ at them. “ _Thank you._ ”

The twins stare back at her. _Smiling_.

Trying very hard to not throw her hands in the air and just _scream_ her frustration to the heavens, Carmy settles for ripping a chuck of rabbit off and _chewing_.

_I’m on a roadtrip through the land of everything-wants-to-kill-me Montana, and I’m making the trip with a pair of jackasses._

Her eye twitches again as the twins cheerily reapply themselves to their food, innocent as little angels – and can't she just _see_ the pretty horns propping up their halos.

_Just._

_Great._

################

The leg of the trip after lunch goes much the same as the one before lunch, except that now Carmy’s aware that she’s traveling with a pair of wiseguys and is _prepared_.

Though prepared for _nothing_ , as it turns out, because _obviously_ the twins aren’t going to show their hands and then play any of the cards she knows they have while she’s expecting it. Why would they, that would be _fucking **sporting** now **wouldn’t it**?!_

It is entirely possible that Carmy is _slightly_ on edge.

And… _damn it._

And the twins’ve clearly picked up on that, and she’s pretty sure they’re being _nice_ to her – not as an apology, obviously (that’s something that _normal_ people would do, _presumably_ around about the time that they’d actually tell someone what their damn _names are_ ), but trying to lighten her stress, so it’s getting increasingly hard to be annoyed at them.

_Stupid adorable punks._

She’s walking side-by-side with Rose at the moment, the big guy exuding an aura of calm and friendly ease, listening attentively to Carmy’s hush stream of random stress babble with a warm little smile, all while doing… something or other that revolves around braiding a seemingly endless supply of leather strips together. Snow, meanwhile, is all over the place – keeping ahead of them and keeping an eye out, but also darting here and there like some kind of forest fairy, dancing back every so often with some random thing (a flower, a pretty rock, a sparkly bit of weather-smoothed glass, a glossy eagle’s feather, etc) that she hands off to Carmy with big earnest eyes and a hopeful smile, and the _grin_ that breaks across her face any time an offering’s accepted is so… so damn _elated_ that, at the current rate, all the little bobbles are going to leave Carmy’s backpack weighing more than _she_ does. She’s half tempted to find it weird, except that every so often the little presents find their way into Rose’s hands (though, in his case, they’re usually little chucks of scavenged wood, bone, horn, or metal). And… well it’s just…

More and more Carmy’s getting the feeling that _happy_ – even brought on by something so seemingly insignificant as giving random bits of junk away as presents – just isn’t something her twins are _used_ to.

So she can’t help but take each new interestingly shaped rock or colorful leaf, smiling and commenting and thanking the smaller girl, feeling her annoyance ebb more and more, feeling simultaneously happy and heartbroken when Snow’s pretty face lights up (when she peripherally sees Rose’s little fixed smile go soft and warm), and bites down the rush of concerned panic every time the younger girl’s treasure hunts pull her out of their line of sight.

She also starts plucking flowers of her own, on impulse, subtly tucking them into her pants’ pocket as she rambles away at Rose.

They keep traveling through the afternoon, slowly and carefully making their way South, the twins relaxed enough that – almost instinctively – Carmy’s confident there’s no Peggies or anything currently on their trail.

All things considered, the whole experience is way nicer than it has any right to be.

Even if the jerks _still_ won’t help her figure out their names.

################

They end up making camp while it’s still plenty light out – light enough that they could still keep going for quite some time… except they stumble on an old abandoned building, the most of it buried deep, but enough above ground and _stable_ enough to make a _damn_ good shelter for the night.

Hell, there’s even some old lockers – long since picked through – inside that are big enough to cover the three existing windows, and there’s still half a _door_.

_Hell_ , the spiders inside aren’t even _venomous_.

It’s practically a fortress.

Carmy and Rose end up setting camp – arranging lockers and building a little campfire and checking there’s no wolverines or anything – while Snow does her thing and vanishes back into the forest (and ok, Rose doesn’t seem the _slightest_ bit bothered by his sister disappearing into the wilderness, so Carmina’s going to follow his example and not worry about it either. Eventually. Maybe.)

Set up doesn’t take that long with the two of them, so Carmy ends up settling down off to the side while Rose fiddles with something – she can’t be _entirely_ sure, but she thinks he might _actually_ be _brewing **tea**_ – over the fire.

Which means…

Carmy and Rose sit in comfortable silence, working their prospective tasks – Rose tries peaking over her shoulder at one point, only shooting her an amused “you’re weird” eyebrow ( _look who’s talking, buddy_ ) and going back to brewing when she shifts and sticks her tongue out at him – until Snow reappears, carrying a couple of Smallmouth Bass ( _how did she even…_ ) with her this time.

Her timing, as it turns out, is _perfect_.

Carmy waits for the younger girl to get herself settled, handing the fish over to her brother, who rather effortlessly spits them and positions them over the fire. Then, making her way over and plopping down between her twins, Carmy leans over and settles the first flower crown on Snow’s head.

The twins freeze.

Then, before either of them gets the chance to thaw, Carmy leans over the other way and puts the second flower crown on Rose’s head. Then, grinning at them, she sits back to admire her handiwork.

She’d saved the fully _white_ flowers for Snow, and they’re shining out against her glossy dark hair like stars in the night sky, while Rose’s – more ivory blooms occasionally dotted with deep blues – warm his already blazing hair and pick up on his vibrant Blue eyes.

And Carmy might not be the best flower-weaver in Prosperity, but she’s not half bad either, so all told the end result is a damn _exquisite_ picture.

_Living Fairytale creatures **confirmed**._

The twins are _very_ slowly starting to reboot, big eyes slowly turning her way and one of Snow’s hands tentatively rising up to touch the delicate circle on her head.

Carmy waits, smiling, until it looks like they’re _just_ about to pull themselves together.

Then – smiling and raising her eyebrows, hopeful and guileless as she can manage – she points her index to each of them in turn, then draws her hand back towards her chest, palm open and towards her torso for a moment before she pinches her thumb and middle finger together and pulls her hand away from her torso again – a sign that Snow had shot her earlier in the day, attached to the first gift, that Carmy’s _damn_ certain translates near to “do you like it?”

Judging by the way the twins _stop_ – eyes going huge and shocked and bright and mouths _dropping_ open with startled wonder… she’s pretty sure her translation’s been confirmed.

The twins stare, wonderstruck, at her for a second. Then their eyes flick briefly to each other. Then back to her and…

She’s mentally preening a bit when the twins finally burst all the way back to their senses.

Snow’s practically _vibrating_ out of her skin, actually bouncing up and down a little where she’s crouched on the ground, signing once (dropping her fist, fingers outwards, out and away from her chin) with so much energy it’s a wonder she doesn’t accidentally punch anyone, her smile huge enough to split her face and her eyes bright enough to start fires, pretty face gone beyond _breathtaking_ with pure _joy_. Rose’s reaction is much less effusive (naturally), boiling down to a cocked eyebrow and wry little smile, a delicate little trio of claps conveying his intent clearly – “well played.”

Carmy smiles back, feeling impossibly warm inside, and plucks the fish out of the fire before they burn.

And if she notices that – every so often as they work on dinner (the fish is crispy and delicious; the tea is _fucking **apple**_ , and Carmy doesn’t even know why that surprises her but damn it she’s done caring about it) – Rose’s eyes go all soft and warm, that his constant little smile goes a touch bigger and more lopsided and _real_ , and that his hand steals up to brush against a petal – in _wonder_ – then… well, _Carmy’s_ a nice enough person to not comment.

################

Later that night, when they finally put out the fire and bed down, the twins are still wearing their flower crowns.

################

When she wakes up, bright and early the next morning, a blurry eyed Rose is tending a pair of ducks ( _we’re not even near water right now_ ) over the fire, while Snow signs away at him while redoing the wraps on her feet ( _I **really** need to get her some shoes before she steps on a nail or something and **dies**_ ).

Yawning widely, Carmy leverages herself into a seated position and –

There’s a worn-out old rucksack lying beside her – decorated with flowers and open to reveal a couple magazines of 45/70 ammo.

Carmina stares at the bag for a long moment.

Then she looks up, locks eyes with Snow (quietly hopeful), and – with a _massive_ grin – drops her fist out and away from her chin.

Snow _beams_ like Carmy’s given her a lifetime of Christmases.

She settles in to reload her gun as the twins work on breakfast – Snow giddy and Rose smiling (for real) through his bleary eyes and Carmy so happy all of a sudden that she consciously decides to not ask where Snow found the bullets.

################

If the previous day’d been weirdly nice, the _current_ day is shaping up to be downright _enjoyable_.

They’ve moved on from Carmy babbling and the twins listening to outright conversations. It’s getting easier to work out signs (granted, she’s pretty sure the twins are _massively_ dumbing down everything for her benefit), each new one she works out building on the last, added to context and expressions and other stuff and… well, she’s not going to claim she’s anywhere _near_ fluent (not even _remotely_ ) but _still_. Communication! She’s even started peppering the occasional sign into her verbal speech (largely as a means of double-checking she’s got the meaning right, honestly), and every time she does the _delight_ the twins show (blazing through every bit of Snow and kept safe and warm in Rose’s eyes) just… just makes her feel _good_.

Also, turns out an arduous journey is a lot less arduous when you and your traveling companions can actually _talk_ to each other, surprise surprise.

Also also? _**Bullets**_. Carmy’s properly _armed_ again, and so’s Rose (thanks to some of their camping time and some of the random bits and bobs Snow’d brought him turning out to be parts for making new arrows), and just knowing they’ve got _options_ for defending themselves again has done _wonders_ for her mood.

And, as though those two factors alone weren’t enough to lift the atmosphere, they are – _somehow_ – still cultist and raider free, _and_ she’s pretty sure they’re about to hit the southernmost edges of the Whitetails.

Which is _really_ good news.

It’s taking everything Carmina’s got to not get hopeful.

Maybe if they’re really lucky they’ll get jumped by a cougar or a wolverine or something just as a reminder of the nature of the situation and to take the edge off of the background paranoia she’s got going on.

_Eh,_ she thinks, plucking up a handful of wildflowers (the previous days crowns have long since disappeared _somewhere_ amidst Rose’s things) and watching Rose’s little smile twitch upwards as he continues braiding leather, _that or something worse’ll probably happen soon._

But, until then… Carmy’s going to give in to impulse, take the chance, and enjoy the good while it lasts.

Even if that good comes hand-in-hand with putting up with traveling companions with too much curiosity and worse attention spans than Uncle Hurk.

“Leave it. – Get down from there. – Yes, it’s pretty, but there’s no way we’re carrying that all the way back to Prosperity. – Where did you even _find_ that? – If that thing _bites_ you I’m going to _laugh_. – Are those things even _edible_? – Oh, oh wow, yeah, that’s actually pretty cool. – Seriously, get down from there. – Hey! Do you want hepatitis?! No, no you _don’t_ , so don’t _touch_ that! No, I’m _not_ telling you what hepatitis is an- _what_ did I just say?!”

And so on.

Carmy’s gaining a degree of empathy for her mother that – she suspects – she isn’t entirely old enough for, and she doesn’t _entirely_ appreciate it.

At least it’s only _Snow_ running around like it’s her first day out of the bunker. Though if Rose ever felt like _helping_ …

There’s a flurry of activity, the distant squawking of startled ducks, and a few seconds later there’s a dirty – but rather startlingly rust-free – hubcap, a roll of duct tape, and a handful of pretty yellow flowers being shoved into her arms, delivered with a massive grin before – in a swirl of dark hair – Snow goes dashing off again.

A smile breaks over her face before she can stop it.

The hubcap gets handed off, Rose obligingly taking it as soon as she holds it up, while the tape gets stashed in her bag and the flowers go into her pocket, Carmina sighing a little and shaking her head as she tries to fight off the smile and ignore Rose’s vague sense of smug amusement.

_Yeah, yeah,_ she glares half-heartedly up at him, only really managing to make him look more amused (and make her smile that much harder to fight, honestly). _Laugh it up, buddy; it’s a **damn** good thing you two are so adorable, or –_

“Hey hey _hey_ , _no_!” She nearly gets whiplash bringing her head around, half-jumping out of her skin as she moving towards the horrifying wreck ( _How in the hell did a boat even get **up** there?_) that the younger girl’s all poised to clamber up on. “That thing was probably a rust-trap _before_ the Apocalypse hit and you are _not wearing **shoes**_.” ( _ **Seriously.** Need. **Shoes**. So badly._) “Now get back over here before you get tetanus through sheer _proximity_ to that thing.”

There’s a puppyish tilt of a pretty head, accompanied by the most earnest Green eyes _ever_ and a brief flurry of signs.

“I don’t _care_ that there might be something useful inside,” it’s reaching the point of sheer _ridiculousness_ , and she’s getting pretty damn sure that they’re doing it at least partially on purpose; and Carmy – torn between _extremely_ frustrated empathy for her mother and _intense_ amusement – is doing her damnedest to not start laughing like a madwoman. Judging by the sparkle inside Rose’s big Blue eyes, though, her damnedest isn’t quite doing the job. “Unless there’s a fully stocked Pre-Collapse hospital and a _pony_ hiding in there it’s not worth the risk.”

The pleading puppy makes another appearance, eyes getting bigger and bigger as – very slowly ( _What… do you think I won’t be able to **see** you if you move slow enough?_) – one delicate little _**shoeless** foot_ extends outwards –

And, in that moment, Kimiko Rye is reborn in her daughter’s skin.

“Hey!” Carmy’s hands come together like a clap of thunder – sharp enough to send the other girl flinching, wide eyed and scrambling backwards – before one _very_ demanding finger jabs down towards the ground by her feet. “Snow, I _mean_ it, you get down from there _right **now**_!”

And suddenly the world’s gone still.

Snow’s frozen midstep, head cocked back into confused-puppy position and face a mask of pure bewilderment and – cued in by a flicker of motion in her periphery – Carmy turns to see Rose giving her an equally baffled look. For a second her eyes flick back and forth between her twins, brief glances spared around them as she tries to figure out what the –

And just like that it hits her.

_Oh. Yeah._ There’s a sudden rush of heat over her cheeks. _That’s not **actually** her name. And… I’ve never said it out loud before. So…_

_So…_

And just like that, something else goes rushing over Carmina, and she feels her eyes _narrow_.

_Fuck it._

She wheels on the boy, catching him just as his utterly bewildered expression is starting to turn understanding, cutting off any further developments or responses with a narrow eyed Look. “And _Rose_ ,” she stares him down through the -click- of realization. And then, as the realization starts turning to ‘wait, what?’ she keeps staring into his eyes, even and unmoving as can be.

_Yeah, that’s right buddy,_ she stares him down, calm and even and unshakable, _I **named** you two. What are you going to **do** about it?_ Carmy feels her eyes narrow again, _Tell me your **actual names**?_

His expression’s starting to shift, almost definitely a sign that he’s about to get his equilibrium back, and Carmina pushes forward before _that_ can happen.

Shifting her weight onto her back foot, Carmy crosses her arms over her chest, looking coolly up into his face and channeling every last bit of Kim Rye’s patented You-Know-What-You-Did _Look_ that she can muster. “You,” there’s enough solidity in her voice to build a house on, “should _not_ be encouraging her.”

And, again, silence descends.

And Carmina couldn’t be more past caring if she tried.

They stand, frozen, for a _long_ time – Carmy unmoving and Rose staring, gears turning almost visibly behind his eyes.

And then, at long last, Rose raises a single, arched eyebrow at her.

And he _grins_.

And then, because the little punk’s an absolute _bitch_ , he raises both eyebrows and widens his eyes – all shocked and injured innocence above a sudden pout – and points askance at himself.

She doesn’t bother reigning in the scoff. “Yeah, _you_ , you ginger _dork_.” He gasps silently at her, one hand clapping on his chest in shocked hurt. Carmy just plants a hand on his shoulder and _shoves_ , “Don’t you think I haven’t seen you egging her on behind my back.”

Blue eyes sparkling, grin reappearing all crooked and beautiful in genuine amusement, _Rose_ ducks his head contritely, a transparent mask of remorse flickering over the top of nearly blinding joy as he runs his fist (thumb tucked over his curled fingers) in little circles over his heart in what – unless she’s entirely mistaken – is a genuine apology.

_Well,_ it takes positively everything she’s got to not grin back, a little laugh catching in her throat, _it’s not a name, but I’ll take it._

“Well then,” Carmy gives Rose a final Look before turning, eyeing Snow (and not even blinking at how the other girl – sun-bright smile in place – is suddenly at her elbow) as coolly as she can manage. “If there’s nothing _else_ …”

She flicks her gaze from one twin to the other, noting the brilliant eyes and matching smiles as she does, and nods with satisfaction. “Great. Now let’s go already – Prosperity won’t come to us, after all.”

Despite her best efforts, Carmy can feel her lips twitching upwards, and she starts walking to cover it, her twins falling readily into step beside her.

################

A couple hours later their path gets blocked off – a long, wide stretch of river cutting them off, full up with enough devilfish to bust right through being a school and constitute an entire damn university instead.

Carmy and Rose (who seems to have picked up on her disinclination for heights, and appears to be supporting her), end up scaling a tree in the hopes of finding some way across, without having to resort to some _massive_ detour, while Snow paces and circles and occasionally vanishes into the underbrush below.

The search up high… isn’t going well.

“What about that way? River’s narrow enough tha- bear? How can you tell there’s – oh, wait no, I see it now. Well, maybe over there; we could use that log and jum- well if we moved fast enough it might – I don’t know, how much do _you_ weigh? Yeah, that’s what I _thought_. Could we… I don’t know, we passed some old phone lines a bit ago, could we grab some of the wires and try and _make_ a zipline? … … … You know, a simple _‘no’_ would’ve sufficed.” She pulls the binoculars back up, scanning the area again with a low muttered, “Jerk.”

Yeah, downside to increased communication? Turns out that, when he isn’t being an obnoxious, obfuscatingly mendacious little _bitch_ , Rose is a damn _sarcastic_ little bastard.

“Hey, maybe your sister and I should throw you to the fish and swim for it while their distracted trying to stomach your bullshit.”

Something flickers at the edge of her vision, and she shifts her glance enough to catch a pointed “ha ha” expression and a very deliberate sign.

“See,” despite everything, Carmina can feel her lips twitch, “‘no.’ Nice and clear and all you needed to say – and now I’m fully aware that you’re a selfish bitch who’s unwilling to sacrifice himself for the greater good, and we can move on. Which…” And, just like that, the smile drops back away. Carmy leans back against the tree trunk, letting the binoculars thump down against her chest with a low sigh, “Which isn’t exactly ideal.” She gives in and lets her head thump back against the tree too, squeezing her eyes shut for a second before cracking them back open to glance over at Rose. “Looks like it’s going to be a detour.”

Tucked neatly on the next branch, Rose doesn’t precisely _respond_ , but his _expression_ speaks clearly enough.

“Ye _p_.” She sighs again, pressing the ball of her thumb against the bridge of her nose. “This is…” And she sighs yet again. “Shit.”

Which really kind of sums up the whole situation, really.

“Right,” Carmy sighs out once more, once they’re back on the ground, Snow kicked back on a boulder and toying with a misshapen lump of rock that she found somewhere. “So we heading more East, or more West? East’s probably going to take us a lot more out of our way, but West –”

Two sets of teeth _flash_ at that.

“East it is, then.” Carmy nods, not in the least surprised by the reaction. “We’ll need to swing more North, and _hopefully_ there won’t be any Burns or Bliss fields before we can start going South again – or, at least, none we can’t avoid – but…”

_But it keeps us the **hell** away from New Eden._

It doesn’t really need to be said, honestly.

And so, without another word or anything, they start heading Northeast.

It’s late in the afternoon when Carmina realizes that something’s horribly wrong.

They’ve evened off somewhat, heading almost due East as they follow the river and look for a safe crossing, and there _is_ – in fact – a pretty massive Bliss field to the North of them… but that’s not the problem, the sickly haze far enough from them and not moving closer, and any sounds but the usual wildlife being far enough in the distance that Carmy’s _reasonably_ sure they aren’t about to get attacked by anything that’s drugged out of its mind and warped into a living nightmare.

At least… that _had_ been the case.

Suddenly, it’s sinking in that there simply _aren’t_ any sounds going around them.

Which is _so_ far from being a good sign.

A quick glance confirms that she’s not crazy – the twins have noticed that something’s hinky too. Rose, in particular, seems twitchier than normal, his fingers jittering over his bow and his Blue eyes scanning the distance, gaze regularly flicking back to his sister, who’s got her head cocked quizzically and seems to be listening for something.

Carmy readjusts her grip on her rifle, keeps her breathing even as she starts scanning the surroundings, fighting back against the swell of possibilities, all the what-ifs of what could pop out from behind the trees and kill them or worse or –

Snow’s gone.

It takes a second – first registering as a prickle of something being inexplicably _off_ in their circle, only fully hitting her after a quick scan turns into a double-take, leaving Carmy staring at the empty space where she’d _swear_ there’d been a teenage girl just a few seconds ago.

She blinks at the space, distant shock and confusion creeping around the edge of her mind.

Which gets followed almost immediately by the heavy bat-to-the-head swing of resigned realization.

Carmina’s eyes flick over to Rose. “This is just going to be a _thing_.” There’s a pounding behind her eyes and her internal monologue is screaming _‘Does Mom always feel this **tired**?!’_ at the top of its lungs. “Isn’t it.”

The younger teen just meets her gaze, an expression somewhere between quiet, long-suffering resignation and come-the-fuck- _on_ stamped on his face, an overall aura of “welcome to my hell” bleeding off him as he sighs heavily and gives a half-hearted shrug.

_Oh. **Goody**._

It’s shameless self-indulgence, but Carmy drops her face into her hand and just _sighs_ for a good long while.

Then, after a second, she caps off the sigh, gives herself a quick shake, and pops her head right back up.

“Right then,” she forces a grin, fully aware that it probably makes her look completely unhinged, and claps her hands together. “Let’s go find her before whatever’s out there does.”

And that’s how Carmy and Rose end up creeping through the woods (on the edge of Bliss and Here-there-be-monsters territory, some unknown Bad looming in the background), looking for their wayward wood nymph instead of continuing to search for a way across the damn river so they can get home.

Because focus and progress are for _other_ people, apparently.

At least Rose seems to have _some_ means of tracking his sister, though Carmy’s damned if she’s got any idea of what it is.

And, judging by the lack of cold, borderline primal _hate_ that she’s grown to recognize the signs of, it seems _likely_ that the current, still unknown threat _isn’t_ of a cultish persuasion. Which does feel like a definite blessing.

_‘Always look on the bright-side, Kiddo,’_ her Uncle Sharky’s voice pipes up in the back of her mind, a reassuring presence as she follows Rose (with much less grace and effortless fluidity) in clambering over a fallen telephone pole. _‘Otherwise the **bullet** -side starts looking **real** appealing real quick.’_

It’s good advice, really. She’s always wondered if whoever first gave it to Sharky had eventually failed to follow it; he’d looked so… so damn _heartbroken_ when he’d almost instinctively imparted it to her.

It’s _definitely_ a comfort to her when they stumble over the first actual sign of what – exactly – the threat they’re dancing around is. A very, very, _very **small**_ comfort – true – but a comfort nonetheless.

Especially since the threat, it seems, is now confirmed to be _multilayered_.

“Well,” Carmy sighs, very much under her breath as she crouches down low and gets her rifle readier, “I guess it’s a good thing that we don’t have to worry about _this_ guy,” she nods a little shakily towards the very dead and partially _eaten_ Highwayman. She tops the nod off with an attempted smile, eyes jittering up and over to Rose, as she chokes out, “Right?”

Rose just stares down at the ripped-to-pieces corpse, expression sort of curiously pensive.

“I mean,” her smile gets a touch or several sharper and more manic as her eyes dart around the surrounding forest. “I mean _sure_ there’s something out there that can take down a huge, heavily armored raider who’s packing all sorts of heat, and we’ve got no idea what it is or where it is or if it’s got friends,” she clamps her fingers down tighter on her rifle to try and stop it from shaking, “and we’ve got _no idea_ where your sister is,” she peripherally notices Rose cant his head a little at that, potentially in acknowledgement and/or commiseration, “but…” _Bright-side, Rye, look on the damn **bright-side**._ “But at least we don’t have to worry about raiders too.”

There’s a flicker of motion, and she looks up to see Rose signing – first pointing at the dead guy, then crooking his fingers (straight and together) at an angle and tapping the tips against his chest, before finally curling his index fingers together twice (left on the top first, then the right), the whole message delivered with an “unless…” expression.

Carmy’s eye twitches wildly, and she rather _passionately_ has to reign in the urge to slap him upside the head. “Shut up, I’m looking on the bright-side. Besides,” her eyes flick over the surroundings again, “raiders don’t _have_ ‘friends’ – only victims and allies waiting to stab them in the back.”

There’s a very unimpressed – _borderline **bored** , what the **hell** Rose?_ – look shot her way.

“Shut up, _bright-side_.” Swallowing hard against the lump of nerves in her throat, and very pointedly ignoring the Looks that are still being shot her way, Carmy edges back a little from the shredded meat-heap. “Let’s just find your sister and get out of here.”

And – of _course_ – that’s when the gunfire goes off.

Before the first shot’s even finished echoing the two of them are already sprinting off towards the sounds of violence.

The gunfire – something small, semi-automatic, and quite well maintained by the sounds of it – cuts out abruptly just as they’re coming up on the source of it, and Carmina’s stomach simultaneously goes bottomless and leaps up into her throat. A flurry of images – each more graphic and horrible than the last – rushes through her mind, all involving snow-white skin and glossy dark hair all wet and stained with blood, a delicate little body torn and broken up, brilliant Green eyes going or done dull and empty, the images getting so much worse as the smell of fresh _blood_ hits her, coming from the little patch of newborn silence up ahead.

The moments before they burst past the last few trees are _hell_.

Which is why, when they _do_ burst past the last few trees, when Carmina sees a _Highwayman_ sprawled limp and bloody on the ground, sees _Snow_ crouched over his body – pulling a knife ( _when and where the hell’d she get a knife?!_ ) out of the back of his neck and wiping the blade clean – and _alive_ … well, all Carmy really feels is blissful _relief_.

She barely even slows as she takes in the scene; just darts her way over to where the younger girl’s starting to rise – Green eyes thawing, going soft and warm the instant she recognizes just who’s come running up towards her.

Carmy skids to a halt, just shy of making physical contact, eyes running quickly over Snow as she checks for injuries.

There don’t seem to be any.

Her lips part for breath and, “Oh thank God, you’re ok,” falls right on out.

And, the moment the words leave her, the moment the truth of them fully registers in her mind, the newborn relief and lingering fear start to fade _fast_ , and a very strong – very _Kim Rye_ – swell of cold _anger_ rises up in their place.

“I am going to _kill_ you.”

Big Green eyes blink up at her, the pretty little smile freezing in place as Snow’s face goes all confused.

And Carmina Rye just _stares_ down into those big Green eyes, unmoved and trying not to lose her shit because _damn it_ , she’s too damn _young_ to understand how her mother feels, to look back on her own life and feel enough guilt to choke a bear. But suddenly she does. She really, _really_ does.

_I am **so** sorry Mom. I swear, if I make it back alive I will make it all up to you. But first I’ve got to not **kill** this little punk._

“What in the _hell_ were you _thinking_ , running off like that?!” And, ok, even with _acknowledging_ how much she’s feeling with and like her mother, hearing what’s basically her mom’s voice coming out of her own mouth is a little disorienting. Not enough to stop her though. “Do you know how lucky you are that you only ran into _one_ of these guys? That you didn’t run into anything _else_? Do you have any _idea_ what _nightmares_ are running around up here?” She jabs a finger towards the still cooling body, “His buddy does – ‘cause one of them _killed him_.”

Big Green eyes slowly blink down at the dead guy, then glide back up at Carmy.

“Yeah,” she presses on, momentum built up and emotions gone too heightened to stop, “and _he_ was the _mean-looking_ one. Body-armor and everything and he _still_ got eaten.” There’s a quizzical-puppy tilt of Snow’s pretty head, and if it wasn’t likely that the unknown Bad is probably still out there Carmy’d throw her head back and _scream_ in frustration. “A giant raider with armor and heavy weaponry got ripped up like a ragdoll; _you_ have a knife and _no shoes_ , do you seriously not realize how lucky you are that whatever got that guy didn’t show up he-“

A twig snaps off to the side of them.

Carmina turns instinctively towards the sound.

And _freezes_.

Silent as the grave and bigger than the nightmares they’re born from, the pack of six Judge Wolves stare at her.

_…_

_Why?_

Carmina stares back at the unnatural wolves, unable to do anything else.

_Also, **fuck**._

She’s heard about the Judges all her life, a sibling Boogeyman to the Peggies that had once controlled them. The original Monstrosities – alive and killing before the bombs had ever hit, warped by drugs rather than radiation, made to the order of a brutal psychopath and conditioned to spread death and terror in The Father’s name. Everyone who’d lived in Hope County before the Collapse speaks of the Judges of old with a sort of primal horror, shadows of terror behind their eyes, memories plaguing them all these years later. The Judges had been one of the greatest threats of the old world. And then the bombs fell, the radiation _transformed_ , and even the Peggies lost the ability to control their monsters.

And monsters they are.

The smallest of the six is probably a good half-foot taller than the biggest wolf Carmina’s seen elsewhere, and the biggest is probably about _four feet_ at its shoulders. And, unlike most other wolves in Hope, these guys _don’t_ look to be on the verge of starvation. Nor do they seem to be marked by radiation (like so many animals are); no scaled patches or strange growths, no split open skin or useless limbs popping from the wrong places – hell, they don’t even have the glowing patches of built-up radiation that characterizes your run-of-the-mill Monstrosities, _or_ the additional bone protuberances that further mutate Abominations like Devil Bears and Hellcats.

They’re not corrupted. Not twisted. Not mutated – beyond the size. They’re… wolves. They’re just wolves.

Just vicious, reportedly intelligent, fucking _massive_ wolves.

An actual nightmare come to life wouldn’t be so terrifying.

Carmina stares at the pack – at the specters of bleached-bone and misty-white fur, at the massive shadow of the dead-black alpha, at the hellish glow of red eyes and the sick gleam of huge white fangs. She stares, knuckles white on her rifle, mind glitching between frozen fear and panicked desperation, trying and failing to think of _some_ way they can get away alive. She stares, drowning in the rabbit-beat of her own heart, spurred on faster and faster and faster by the fear and the _hopelessness_.

She stares.

And she decides.

Carmy steadies her grip on the rifle, tries to breathe as steadily as she can. She just needs to buy a little time – just enough for Snow and Rose to get a head start, if she can give them that than they’ve got a shot, her twins are good enough in the wilderness that there’s at least the _chance_ for escape. If she can get the alpha… a kill shot or even just taking it out of commission for a _little_ while _should_ distract the rest of the pack, make them scared or disoriented for a moment and then... then…

She takes a slow, deep breath, steels herself, and –

Snow walks past her – delicate, graceful steps moving the younger girl _towards_ the pack of Judges.

For a moment the world goes frozen and silent and blinding white.

And then it starts back up again – a hellish clash of panicked speed and horrified slow, the world blurring around her even as she perceives every sped-up second of it over the span of an eternity.

She sees Snow moving steadily forward, posture perfect and head up high. Sees the Judges’ attention go laser-focused onto her, ears perking and muscles tightening, heads cocking sharply, half of the pack ducking their heads and licking their lips, ears lying back, the others slowly shifting their weight and _bearing their **teeth**_.

She sees it, and she sees a flash-forward – red-stained skin and red-soaked hair and fading Green, and her own muscles coil to –

A hand lands on her shoulder – the touch light and soft enough to shock her into stillness.

And just then – before she can shake free of the shock, pull away from Rose and pull up her gun before the Judges can rip into Snow like they had the Highwayman – one of the wolves makes its move, and all Carmy can do is stare in numb horror as the ghostly beast springs forward, paws planted solidly as it bears its massive teeth at the tiny girl, snapping its jaws and snarling like something from the pits of hell and it‘s going to –

And then _Snow_ moves and –

There’s a… a _sound_ – something wild and _primal_ , _**primeval**_ , that makes every last fiber of Carmina Rye’s being _instinctively_ roll over and show throat – that cuts through the air, shattering the tension and making everything go deathly still.

It takes her the longest time to realize that the sound came from _**Snow**_.

She’s only just starting to _process_ that (the first proper sound the other girl’s ever made and it’s a _snarl_ from the pits of hell and a world _long_ gone) when the Judges do; the initial combatant starting to bristle up again as another of the pack starts to move forward.

Only to stop abruptly when Snow _wheels_ around – enough that Carmy can see her in profile – and bears her teeth, _**snarls**_ the newcomer down too, the _sound_ echoing out and making the Judges flinch back and cower, ears flattening and tails tucking as they cringe away in confusion and fear.

And then the Alpha moves.

It’s slow, each step deliberate, the juggernaut making its way across the forest floor, past its packmates as it moves towards Snow, the girl’s snarls fading as she slowly straightens back up, head lifted as the giant wolf pads up to her, Green eyes meeting glowing red evenly, the tension growing and growing as they stare at each other and –

There’s a low _huff_ from the Alpha Judge, just before it raises up its massive head and a massive tongue lolls out of its maw and outright _washes_ over Snow’s face.

Time hangs, frozen.

Then Snow _laughs_ – puppy-like huff of breath with just the faintest hint of a human voice beneath it, high and light, lilting and girlish and _pure_ – and suddenly all the violent, primal cold and the crushing weight of impending violence _shatters_ , tension bleeding out of the Judges – some of them laying down indolently, the others padding forward easily – as their Alpha keeps washing Snow’s face, his tail wagging lazily as she laughs and scratches blunt nails through thick black fur.

And, off to the side of it all, Carmina Rye just stares.

_What._

The Alpha’s left off with the grooming, sitting back and radiating a sense of satisfied ease (much like the dogs back in Prosperity when they’ve done a Good Job and _know_ it) as three of the others circle around, tails all wagging. One of them – one of the smaller ones, missing an eye now that it’s close enough for her to notice – darts forward suddenly, catching Snow in the back of the knees and bowling her over, and Carmy’s still just starting to build up a horrified scream when the girl rolls into the shove, somersaulting neatly and coming up crouched on all fours, a brilliant grin flashing for an instant before she lunches forward, catching the wolf around the neck and dragging him to the ground with her in a riot of white fur and white skin, two sets of playful growls rumbling out as the two of them wrestle around on the forest floor.

And, off to the side of it all, Carmina Rye just _stares_.

_**What.** _

She stares.

And stares.

And _stares_.

And then, finally, _very_ slowly, she turns to Rose.

“So,” her voice is almost startlingly even and calm. “Did _you_ know your sister could talk to wolves?”

Rose looks down at her, eyes all massive with shock, the _picture_ of innocence, and signs what can only be, “she can talk to _wolves_?!”

Carmy stares back at him, eyes flatter than a plank of wood.

_You miserable little **bastard**._

“Right.” Carmy replies after a _long_ moment, nodding once, and stares him down. “Do you know _this_ one?”

And she flips him off.

With both hands.

Rose shoots her a look of _such_ profound hurt that a dumber person would totally buy his injured innocence. Carmy’s not dumb, though, not anymore, and she holds his eyes and her gesture for a moment before turning back away.

Soulless little bitch is laughing at her with his damn _eyes_.

Of course, turning away from _Rose_ just leaves her looking at _Snow_ again – the feral forest-creature still rolling around in the dirt and play-fighting with a pack of nightmares made manifest, and…

And…

Carmy’s eyes fall shut and she sighs.

And fuck everything, apparently; the world’s gone mad and nothing means anything anymore.

“Right,” she says – well, _sighs_ , really – at long last, forcing her eyes back open and nearly despairing when reality’s still on drugs. “I’m going to get back to the task at hand, and find a way across the river so we can _go home_. And _you two_ ,” two sets of eyes, turned her way the moment she started addressing the surroundings (as did the _Judges_ , actually, but for the sake of her sanity Carmy’s not acknowledging that), brighten attentively, “are coming with me.” She feels one of her eyes twitch abruptly, and she doesn’t bother trying to keep the raw _doneness_ out of her voice. “Lord only knows I don’t need you running wild and… I don’t know, befriending a damn _dinosaur_ or alien robot or army of undead cavemen sasquatch or whatever, and leading them on a rampage across the wilderness.”

Snow’s head cocks to the side in confusion, and from the corner of her eye she can see Rose –

Without bothering to turn her head Carmina _jabs_ a finger at him. “If you even _try_ it, I will nonlethally _shoot_ you. Now,” she jumps right ahead, ignoring the look of scandalized hurt that she _feels_ being thrown her way, “let’s go before this day gets anymore ridiculous.”

And with that she turns neatly and marches back the way they’d come from.

She makes it maybe ten feet before there’s two figures padding up on either side of her.

And – a flurry of sound _strongly_ indicates – about six more quadrupedal ones following closely behind.

Carmina doesn’t even bother looking back at the sextet of nightmare hell beasts; just turns to glance at Snow – who’s beaming and all but skipping at her side. “So those things aren’t going to try and eat me or anything, are they?”

The other girl whips around to look at her, expression aghast and just a touch insulted, and the emotion’s running so high Snow nearly trips over a root and goes sprawling onto the ground.

Carmy catches her neatly by the elbow, holding her steady with a brief eyeroll. “Right, nobody here’s on the menu, good to know.”

And then, despite herself… Carmina Rye feels a genuine smile start to play at her lips. “So we’ve got super-wolves now.”

From her peripheral vision she sees both of her twins perk up slightly – the faintest spring entering Rose’s step as his head cocks her way, and Snow shifting just a bit closer to knock lightly against her side.

She can’t stop the smile from getting bigger (doesn’t _try_ to, honestly); just lightly nudges the smaller girl back before swaying over to nudge her shoulder against the boy.

“ _Neat_.”

################

They run into more Highwaymen before they make it all the way out of the forest.

Rose snipes one before they’ve even been noticed.

The wolves eat the other three.

It’s absolutely _horrifying_ and _fucking **amazing**_ and Carmy starts to really truly _believe_ that they’ll _actually_ make it back to Prosperity.

Snow is unbearably smug for the next several hours.

################

The sun’s starting to hang low on the horizon and they’ve yet to find a way across the river and out of the Whitetails. Which is unfortunate. However, the Judge have yet to try and eat anyone but the Highwaymen from earlier. Which is a _definite_ plus so far as Carmina’s concerned.

They’ve been keeping an eye out for someplace to bed down for the night for quite some time when Snow – who, maybe feeling guilty from earlier or maybe just trying to mollify Carmy, has been keeping her little scouting trips and foraging sessions to a bare minimum – suddenly pops out from behind some bushes, two wolves trailing behind her, her eyes wide and… weirdly tense as she nods jerkily off in the direction she’d just come from.

Carmy follows the gesture, a line of concern pulling up between her eyes as she rests a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder, confusion and concern warring it out as they move through the overgrowth and off to –

“Holy _shit_.” Everything falls out of her mind, and Carmina’s jaw drops so fast she’d swear there should be a -clunk- to go with it, her eyes wide as she stares at the hatch that’s nearly invisible under a canopy of vegetation, mind racing because… because it’s not just _natural_ camouflage. Carmy kneels down, takes a closer look at the strategic placement of some of the plants, the overgrowth overgrown but still obviously established – _intentionally_ – to obscure the hatch without blocking access, the metal of the door treated so it’ll blend with the surroundings… some of it’s the Bloom, yeah, and some of it’s been overtaken by time and neglect giving nature a leg-up, but it’s obvious that – initially – the bunker had been designed to be _hidden_.

And a little emblem scratched into a corner of the hatch gives her a pretty good clue of _why_.

“ _Holy **shit**_.” She gasps the words out again, fingers tracing over the etching – over the rough set of curved antlers with the little star nestled between. “This is a _**Whitetail** bunker._” Her head pops up instantly, a massive grin breaking over her face as she looks at her twins, registering the dawning realization and wonder in their eyes through her excitement (and only _just_ catching the weird, stricken tension on both of their faces). “I didn’t know there were any of these left,” there’s a little tremor in her voice, wavering through the awe lowered tone it’s taken on, “All the Whitetails who made it through the Collapse either resettled down South when the Bliss Fields started taking over or left Hope altogether. I always figured that they cleared out all their places before they left but…” Her fingers run over the emblem gain, “this looks like it might have been _left_ ; if we can get inside…”

Carmy reaches over, brushing and pulling plants and other detritus away, avoiding the hatch’s handle _entirely_ as she clears and scans the door more intently. “Now… the Whitetails were awesome, but they were also _paranoid_. Not that they didn’t have a reason, given what they dealt with,” from the corner of her eye she _thinks_ she catches a pair of twin clinches ( _why would…?_ ), “but… yeah, apparently they had a tendency to booby-trap these things.” She pushes the faint confusion at the twins’ reactions away, crouching lower as she searches for… “Got it!”

Carmina brushes away a heavy blanket of leaves, then tugs free some strategically planted vegetation and rocks, unveiling an old combination locked panel low on one side of the door.

“Yes.” The steady stream of success pulls her grin up more, eyes narrowing slightly as she lifts the lock and peers closer at it. “Now, luckily for _us_ , my dad did a _lot_ of work with the Whitetails back during The Reaping.” She glances up for a second, eyes lighting on the twins just in time to see them flinch again – to catch the faint shudder that ripples through Snow as she ducks her head, and the way Rose’s perpetually pleasant expression goes tense and pensive all of a sudden.

_What the… hell…?_

Then she shakes her head ( _Later_ ), forcing her grin to perk back up as she returns to the lock. “And not just any Whitetails,” she makes her tone stay bright and chipper, trying to shake their good moods back into place. “Dad worked with the _leadership_ , which means that he got to learn some of the fun stuff. _And_ ,” her fingers start to flick over the lock, “a lot of that fun stuff found its way into my bedtime stories – including…” there’s a sharp -click- at her fingers and, grin suddenly back to full force, she pulls the now open lock free, “Whitetail Militia _master codes_.” Carmy beams back up at her twins, dancing the lock over her fingers, “Voilà.”

Her twins blank at her for a second.

Then, pensive expressions fading slightly as their smiles return (albeit as shadows of what she’s grown used to), they obligingly applaud for her.

“Thank you,” Carmy bows her head a little, winking as she does ( _keep the mood **up**_ ), before returning to the now open panel, flipping it to reveal a series of little switches, each marked with Morse code symbols. “Now, if I remember correctly, all I should need to do is…” A few switches flick, there’s a quiet -beep- and, just like that, the hatch pops open.

She grins upwards again, “And there we go.”

A few moments later Rose is getting the hatch all the way open, nose wrinkling (rather cutely) as he fights some with the hinges, (and something strained in his eyes that she can’t place but doesn’t _think_ stems from the exertion), and Carmy’s getting her stuff secured when a thought hits her.

“Hey,” she nudges Snow lightly, big Green eyes turning attentively her way, then the other when Carmy nods off to the side. “Those guys are going to be ok with us going down there for the night, right?” One of the Judges looks her way for a second. Then it sneezes. It feels unsettlingly intentional, and Carmy feels justified in rolling her eyes, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you,’ _obviously_.”

There’s a pretty smile at her elbow (unsettlingly wan and something frozen at its edges) and, with a quick press against her side, Snow darts forward. Her arms curl lightly around the Alpha’s neck, fingers scratching behind his ears and along his ruff as they girl growls softly in the back of her throat. For his part, the Alpha just gives a long, borderline _exasperated_ sigh ( _can animals even **feel** exasperation?_) and, taking a moment to turn and thoroughly wash Snow’s face again, glides back up to his paws.

Seconds later the whole pack’s vanished into the woods.

And Snow’s turning back to Carmy, a smile that’s trying damn hard – and failing pretty badly – for cheeky stuck on her face.

Carmina rolls her eyes, swallowing down against the steadily growing lump in her throat, settles one hand on the smaller girl’s head and gives a little shove. “Yeah yeah,” she rolls her eyes again, grinning a little more easily at the exaggerated pout, and turns back towards the now open hatch in time to catch Rose’s deeply amused look. “Come on, Wolf-Whisperer; let’s just get out of the hell woods and down into the prepper bunker already.”

And, as it turns out, she’s perfectly placed to see Rose go dead still.

Something cold, that’s been steadily growing up inside her for the last few minutes, fully blooms to life. She stares at the boy for a long moment – taking in his painfully tense muscles, the white-knuckled grip on the door, and the way he’s staring (wide eyed, fixed gaze, the barest edge of a tremor under his stillness) down into the void of the bunker. Then, slowly, Carmy turns to look at Snow. The girl’s just as still and vacantly wide-eyed as her brother, ash under her already pale skin.

_What… the fuck?_

Stomach roiling suddenly, Carmina tries to smile. “I can go first…”

Neither of her twins so much as blinks.

Her stomach’s starting to roil up into her throat.

“Hey,” she reaches out, fingers brushing Snow’s shoulder, then freezes when the younger girl _jumps_ away, cringing back like she’s been _hit_ , eyes terror-wide – and in the same moment, from the corner of her eye, she sees Rose _jolt_ violently.

And the roil’s all the way up into her mouth.

She –

She’s long since worked out that the twins are a year or two younger than her (she’s got no doubts about that), which obviously means they’re Bunker Babies like she is; which – fair enough – some Bunker Babies get _weird_ about going back below. Except… except she hadn’t thought… until this point she’d never even _wondered_ …

Who’d they been in their home bunker _with_?

All of a sudden, Carmina’s starting to feel very cold and sick.

She takes a second. Takes a breath. Takes another second and another breath, and does that a few times before she gets her throat to relax enough that she can try speaking again.

“Look, we…” she swallows hard and tries to smile, “we can find someplace else to stay for tonight.” It’s shaky as hell, but she makes a smile appear, “Maybe our terrifying new friends can help us?”

Two sets of eyes stare at her, wide and blank as can be.

Then the eyes flicker away from her, locking together, and once again Carmina watches something exchange silently between them.

And _then_ , they _smile_.

They’re not any of the smiles she’s used to from them. They’re… small. Shaky. Tired and sad and hurt, but tender and _hopeful_.

The sight of them breaks Carmina’s heart.

Breaks her heart so much she barely notices when Snow moves, only just registering it before a delicate little hand slips into hers and squeezes lightly, big Green eyes shimmery and so full of _trust_ – a trust she can see reflected just as brightly in Rose’s big Blue eyes when he comes around to their side of the hatch – that it’s _terrifying_.

“Right,” somehow she gets the word out, soft and bright, and returns the hand-squeeze with the best smile she can manage.

“So I’ll go first?”

################

The ladder takes a few seconds, the rungs scratchy with flaking paint but otherwise sturdy, and when Carmy’s boots hit the concrete floor ( _“No, no I **am** going first. Because these people were paranoid as all get out and I don’t think that being able to commune with nature will help if there’s more booby-traps, **that’s** why.”_) the dull -thud- of it echoes back at her long enough for Rose to make it down too.

There’s a shiver on her skin, one that’s down to more than just what’d transpired topside, enough so that she has to force herself to move forward, to not just stand there shivering and holding herself in the oppressive silence and gloom.

But she can hear Rose hit the ground, rough leather boots shuffling nervously behind her, can hear Snow’s low, choppy breaths coming down the ladder, and as bad as everything is to begin with she’s not leaving them stranded in the dark too.

So, taking a few deep breaths and rubbing the chill from her arms, Carmina takes a few more cautious steps in and starts hunting for a light source.

Honestly, she’s not entirely sure what she was expecting to see when – after a minute of fumbling and stumbling and _praying_ that nothing starts beeping or clicking or rattling at her – she finds the familiar shape of a generator and – with a degree of luck she didn’t know _existed_ – it _actually_ revs to life, flooding the bunker with light and leaving the three of them wincing and blinking furiously… but it certainly wasn’t what’s spread out before them.

“It’s…” Carmy’s staring, wide eyed and slack jawed all over again, gaze flickering wildly around the bunker as she tries to take it all in. “Holy _shit_.”

It’s like staring into a photograph of the past.

The place is borderline _pristine_ – everything neat and orderly and in place, _intact_ ; nothing but an admittedly heavy layer of dust indicating that the place has been long abandoned. The tidiness is all the more impressive since the bunker is, even at a glance, pretty damn big – a larger complex than the two-rooms-and-a-bathroom set-ups that Carmy’s used to seeing. Hell, they’re standing in the threshold of a damn _common room_. A utilitarian, _Spartan_ common room sure, but _still_ … a common room – complete with chairs and bookshelves and cabinetry and a damn _couch_. And, as though that wasn’t _enough_ , Carmy can already see _three_ separate doors leading to further parts of the bunker.

“This is _amazing_.” She’s moving further in to the bunker, fingers brushing over the threadbare furniture, half-expecting it all to disappear the whole time. “Do you think they were going to come back here? Or… or maybe they left it for someone else to use, or…?” She trails off, hand reaching out to run over the Whitetail Militia flag that’s carefully affixed to one wall. A trembling little laugh escapes her, head whipping back around and –

The twins are still crowded against the ladder.

Carmy feels her smile fade, the wonder and excitement drifting away as she looks at the sickly gray cast of their skin, the faint sheen of sweat that’s broken out, the way they’re _clutching_ each other’s hands in desperation as they stare emptily forward – very clearly looking into someplace else entirely.

Not for the first time, Carmina Rye finds herself wanting to storm the gates of New Eden and dispense some _Atonement_ of her own.

She wants to find whoever hurt her twins and _hurt_ them right the fuck _back_.

But most of all… she _needs_ to make it _better_.

Even just a little bit.

And, all of a sudden, she thinks she might have an idea of how to do that.

“Hey,” inspiration floods into her voice, makes it bright without needing to force it, and when the twins’ eyes snap over to her Carmy’s smile is perfectly genuine. Holding their gazes for a second she winks, lifts a hand (palm up) and wiggles her fingers a little in what she’s worked out to mean “wait.” Then – waiting herself, just long enough to watch some of the tension bleed out of them, Rose letting out a little shaky breath and Snow managing a _tiny_ smile – she ducks into the nearest room, directly opposite the bunker’s entrance.

She nearly punches the air in _glee_ when a glance around proves her hunch right.

When she appears a few seconds later, full hands tucked behind her back and smile ready to split her face, curiosity is _clearly_ fighting for dominance over the twins – their painful stillness minutely eased and their skin tones approaching living again.

“So…” she draws the word out, drawing their attention entirely onto her. Then, feeling fit to burst, she holds her discovery up for inspection. “What are your thoughts on _not_ wearing luddite-cult-chic anymore?”

She watches their expressions go all confused, eyes fixing on the clothes she’s holding out like dogs trying to comprehend higher mathematics.

And then she sees the _exact_ moment that understanding -clicks- into place.

Judging by the expressions that follow, Carmina’s got a feeling that they have _very positive_ thoughts on the subject.

################

The ensuing raid on the bunker’s bedroom (well, bed _rooms_ – there turns out to be _another_ one through the second door, connected to the first by a shared washroom) ends up feeling like one of those shopping-montages from the old Pre-Collapse movies that some of the old timers talk about (or, at least, what Carmy’s always imagined they were like). There’s still a fair amount of clothes in the bunker (making Carmy wonder if the inhabitants had just decided to travel light when they left, if they _had_ planned to return, or – less happy thought – if they’d lost some people), and they end up hauling most of it into the common room.

Outfitting Snow proves slightly difficult, given how damn _tiny_ the girl is, but they eventually find her the smallest pair of jeans available which – with a lot of rolling and a new hole punched into a thick belt – end up working rather well. Rose is slightly easier, locating a couple pairs of jeans that mostly fit, and even a pair of boots that only need a little padding. Part way through the search Carmina uncovers a Beatles t-shirt, and the _second_ she holds it up she nearly gets knocked over by Snow, who’s practically _vibrating_ out of her own skin as she clutches it to her chest, eyes and smile so brilliant they’re practically incandescent. Rose makes a few playful grabs at the shirt, eyes crinkling up at the corners when his sister bares her teeth and _snarls_ at him (a sound that would have freaked Carmy right the hell out if she hadn’t seen the younger girl spend the day _talking to **wolves**_ ). All the teasing stops though, the _second_ that Carmy finds an old Cougars shirt, Rose’s big Blue eyes wide in utter wonder and breath catching in his throat, hands shaking a little as he takes it, fingers tracing – almost _reverently_ – over the slightly faded logo.

If Carmy hadn’t already been _convinced_ that the twins had at least one Resistance parent, this pretty much confirms it.

Also, she learns that the twins have rather casual views of modesty, and that it’s not just their faces that are _pretty_.

Which is… nice.

And something she enjoys a lot more than she probably should, honestly – at least until her mother’s voice starts shrieking in her inner ear, kicking her sense of decency back to life and pulling her eyes back down to the clothes-pile until both of the younger teens are dressed again.

She _definitely_ doesn’t peek before then, either.

Not that anyone can _prove_.

Anyway.

Eventually everyone’s decent (so to speak), and…

“Well hot damn,” Carmy pans her eyes over the twins, smile going as warm as the weirdly fuzzy feel in her chest. “Look at you two.”

Her twins smile back – Snow’s huge and brilliant as she throws her arms out and twirls, Rose’s soft and lopsided as he strikes a little pose.

“Yeah,” she giggles a little, flashing a wink and clapping appreciatively, “yeah you look _good_.”

They do, too. The clothes are old and faded, ill-fitting (Snow’s way too big, Rose’s pants and sleeves a little too short), and they look _good_ in them. Happy and comfortable and relaxed in their old, found normal-people clothes in a way they just hadn’t in the cult leathers.

For the first time since she’s met them, her twins look really, _properly_ like _actual_ teenagers, rather than like fairy-tale characters come to life.

The Good Vibes emanating from all of them in that moment are _almost_ enough to drown out the lingering ghosts of bunker-trauma.

They take a few more minutes to sort through the clothing, setting aside a few extras (a few changes of shirts for everyone, an extra pair of pants – well, shorts for Snow, it’s the only other thing that’ll fit – for each of them, some workable underthings, and one coat per twin – and, very sadly, no shoes for Snow, _damn it_ ) before returning everything else to where they’d found them. That done they start poking around the bunker, getting the lay of the land and hunting for anything else that might be useful.

Well… _Carmina_ does all that. The twins follow her from an arm’s-length away, staying in constant contact with each other and growing more and more tense by the moment, some of the clothes-joy fading as their eyes flicker around the bunker, hunting for ghosts.

Carmy’s definitely less thorough in her searching than she’d normally be – speeding through each room, _clearing_ them more than actually _searching_ them, trying to keep up a steady stream of bright, cheery dialogue as she goes. It’s not easy, and the conversation’s gone right back to being completely one sided.

She does find confirmation about why the bunker’s so intact though, in the form of an old letter pinned (with a big ass hunting knife that vanishes – somehow and somewhere – onto Snow’s person) to a table in the dusty galley kitchen they find through the final common room door. The ink’s faded a little with time, but not so much that it’s hard to make out, and the bold handwriting’s clear and easy to read.

 

 

> _The Bliss is getting worse, coming closer every day. We can’t stay here anymore, and everything to the South… it’s not for us. We talked about making one last stand – trying to take out the Peggies once and for all, for us and for **Eli**. For her. But… fuckit. No one can bring themselves to do it. It just seems so fucking **pointless**._
> 
> _We’re leaving. Heard of a group that’s heading out of here, going further West. There’s some good people going, but they could definitely use the help. And God knows it’d be a welcome change to **actually** help people for once._
> 
> _If you got inside here alive, chances are you’re either a Whitetail or a Whitetail trusted you, so any of the shit we’ve left is yours if you want it. Hope it does you some good. And if you’re a Peggy that somehow found your way in here, then do us and the whole world a favor – go fuck off, die, and burn in hell with your fucking Heralds._
> 
> _– TB_

There’s another page beneath that one, stuck to its underside so Carmy nearly misses it, crumpled and spotted and written in another hand, harder to read than the first and… and…

 

> _If **you’re** the one reading this… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Fuck me, I hope this isn’t you, I hope you’re dead. I’m sorry. Tracey told me what – she told me what **he** – I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you like you saved me. And I’m so, so sorry that I’m leaving you behind. I’m sorry I’m such a coward but I can’t – You deserve so much better. You always deserved so much better. You gave us everything and when you needed help there was no one there. Don’t blame the others, please, don’t blame anyone but me. I don’t think anyone else even knows. I asked Tracey not to tell them, and I’m sorry for that too but I – If they knew – I’m sorry. I hope you’re dead. I hope you’re finally at peace. I’m sorry._  
>  _Jess_

Carmina traces her fingers – cold and trembling – over the water-spotted paper. Over the shaky signature of the aunt ( _ **one** of them_) that she never got to meet.

Then she neatly folds both sheets of paper, tucks them securely into a water-tight pocket of her backpack, shoves everything deep down inside herself, and walks out of the now empty kitchen and into the mostly empty armory.

Eventually they settle back in the common room. True to the first note the Whitetails _had_ left behind some useful stuff – quite a bit more than the three of them can make use of, much less carry as it turns out. So, after a moment’s consideration, they’d gone judiciously through the armory, picking out a few things here and there to restock or (in a few cases) outright replace their gear. Carmina’s picked up a sweet little AR-C to supplement her old rifle, along with as much ammo for both guns as she can find room for. Rose’s rough wooden bow is sitting on one of the armory shelves now, abandoned (almost pointedly) the _second_ he’d laid eyes on a sleek, downright _gorgeous_ recurve bow, a selection of arrows likewise finding their way into his quiver (the one he came in with, left a little grudgingly in place). And Snow comes away with enough knives that Carmy’s starting to wonder if she should be concerned.

The second “shopping spree” brings the mood back up again – just a little, just enough to settle everyone back down, Rose fiddling around with his new gear (probably testing weights and balances) while Carmy starts poking through the bookshelves and Snow starts poking around everything else.

She’s pulled out a couple books and magazines – stuff that looks like it could be useful in general, and one or two things that she thinks Bean will find particularly interesting – when there’s a sharp exhale of breath (not _quite_ a proper sound but _close_ to one), a sort of startled/confused-puppy whine coming from behind her.

She turns to where Snow’s ended up, over by a sort of hutch thing with an attached table. Carmy’d checked it earlier, lured by the radio parts on the table, only to be let down when she realized none of the parts were _functional_. Snow, though, has bypassed all that – has hefted up an old plastic crate that Carmy’s missed and is examining a –

_Holy shit._

“Holy _shit_!” She barely pauses to shove the book she’s holding back on to the shelf, going _over_ the worn-out sofa and skidding to a halt by the wide-eyed girl, her smile and her own eyes getting bigger and bigger as she carefully starts thumbing through the crate of old vinyl records. “This is…” she looks over at Snow, a shaky laugh breaking from her lips. “Do you know what these are?”

Snow blinks up at her for a second. Then, carefully, she flips over and holds up the record in her delicate hands, showing off where ‘The Beatles’ is emblazoned on the front.

Carmy laughs again, the urge to reach over and ruffle the younger girl’s hair rising up inside her. “Those’re your guys, huh?”

There’s a soft, vulnerable little smile, big Green eyes going all distant and tender as she cradles the record closer.

“Yeah,” Carmy feels her own smile go soft, and she redirects the ruffling urge into tucking a long lock of dark silky hair behind an ear, humming a little laugh when the girl responds with a contented sigh and leans into the touch. “They’re something special alright.”

There’s a little shuffle behind them as Rose walks up, peering over her shoulder at the vinyls, then pointing at the box before shimmying his hands (palms up) back and forth in front of his chest, expression quizzical.

Carmina’s smile goes a little wry. “There probably aren’t many records in New Eden, huh?” She turns back to the crate, talking over the silent snarls the name always draws. “They’re how people used to store music, back before the Collapse. Well,” she pauses part way through the crate – _holy fucking **shit, Creedence Clearwater Revival**!_ – when a thought hits her, ducking down and glancing around the area, “one of the ways, anyway. Now let’s just hope they also left th- wait, _**ye** \- shit_.”

Carmina straights back up again, letting the very broken record player thump down on the table with a sigh of deep, _personal_ frustration. “Well so much for _that_ idea.” The excitement’s already bleeding out, leaving room for reality to come bleeding back in, and her eyes fall wearily back to the cheery plastic crate and its precious contents. Which now seem to be _mocking_ her. “Probably shouldn’t try taking these back to Prosperity either,” her fingers trace longingly over the covers, “no way in _hell_ they’d all make the trek intact.” A rough, bitter little bark of laughter escapes her, “Probably why the Whitetails left ‘em in the first place. Well,” she pushes the crate back a little from the edge, trying to sigh her way through the disappointment, “it was a fun thought but I guess –”

And that’s when Rose slips around behind her, comes out the other side, and opens the doors of the little hutch thing.

Carmina _stares_ inside.

_Oh,_ she thinks.

_Also,_ she continues thinking, _Carmina Rye you **dumbass**._

And then the dull embarrassment and self-recrimination over the realization that she’d never _looked inside the stupid cabinet_ damn well _evaporates_ in an instant, excitement flooding through her all over again as she grins and leans over to jab the ‘Play’ button on the _still functional_ audio setup and –

A guitar riff _shatters_ the calm quiet of the bunker.

The twins are _moving_ , flinging themselves backwards, Snow going low and all but scuttling away on all fours as Rose grabs Carmy and pulls her over the back of the couch with him, leanly muscled arms holding her close to a terror-shook body while Snow cowers under a table across the room, and they’re so shocked and surprised and _confused_ , and it’s totally not fair – because why wouldn’t they be, they’ve got no _clue_ what’s going on – and not at all that nice but Carmy can’t help but throw her head back and _laugh_ as Joan Jett’s voice soars through the bunker, bragging on and on about her Bad Reputation.

She laughs and laughs and laughs, and when the shaking of the body under and around her dies down and she manages to glance back, catches Rose’s expression – a little bit embarrassed and fairly affronted and still so confused – she laughs even _harder_.

There’s an annoyed little almost-growl underneath her, and Rose wriggles his way free from the tangle he’d caused, leaving her to thump back like so much dead weight against the couch and making her laugh all the more.

By the time she’s _finally_ getting herself back together Snow’s come slowly out from her hiding place, head cocked to the side as she _listens_ , wide eyed and in _wonder_ , and that sight’s probably what stops Carmy from losing it all over again when she catches Rose eyeing her with a pointed, long-suffering “Y’done?” look.

She ends up getting her feet back under her, still giggling a little, just as the song is wrapping up. There’s a brief moment of silence, long enough for the twins’ expressions to start falling when –

The _drums_ kick in as the next song starts.

And then –

_/That’s great it starts with an earthquake_  
_/Birds and snakes, and aeroplanes_  
_/Lenny Bruce is not afraid_

The twins go still again.

And Carmy just stares, slack-jawed.

_Holy shit… it’s **perfect**._

She’s already swaying to the beat, shoulders moving and head bopping the second the song started up, and all it takes is a single step to pull her whole body along for the ride, twirling and laughing and suddenly she’s looking over at the twins, drinking in their wide eyed wonder as she lets everything go and _dances_.

_/Eye of the hurricane, listen to yourself churn_  
_/World serves its own needs_  
_/Don’t mis-serve your own needs_

She spins, tosses her head, gets her hips into the game and throws a little two-step in for good measure, spins again and comes back around to _grin_ at the younger teens, flashing a cheeky wink at their awed stares.

_/Wire in a fire, represent the seven games_  
_/And a government for hire and a combat site_

Carmy throws out an arm, grin getting bigger and bigger and still dancing like crazy as she waves her hand. “C’mon!”

The twins start, flinching backward a little and pulling their eyes off her just long enough to exchange a bewildered glance.

She two-steps a little closer, arms pumping above her head for a beat before dropping back, one hand held out for each twin as she dances.

_/Team by team, reporters baffled, trumped, tethered, cropped_  
_/Look at that low plane, fine, then_

They look so bewildered, _awe-struck_ , and she can’t help but laugh again, beckoning them forward with her hands as she does so. “ _Please_ tell me you two know what dancing is!”

Big eyes flick back together again, and when the gazes are drawn back to her there’s something _brilliant_ growing up behind them, the normal brightness driving up to something otherworldly.

Carmina sees it, smiles even brighter, beckons again and –

_/World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed_  
_/Tell me with the Rapture and the reverent in the right, right_

Snow moves, the first step shaky and tentative, each ensuing one faster until there’s a delicate white hand taking Carmy’s.

“ _Yes_!”

_/You vitriolic, patriotic –_

Her free hand pumps victoriously in the air, the other getting a proper hold on the younger girl’s hand as she pulls her back a step onto the “dance floor” with a cheer –

_/slam fight, bright light_

– and spins them around, sweeps her free hand through the air to catch Snow’s free hand –

_/Feeling pretty psyched_

– and they’re _**dancing**_.

Carmina pulls Snow along with her, the younger girl’s eyes locked on Carmy’s feet as they move, wide and taking in every step and shift, rapidly mirroring Carmina’s steps until suddenly she’s _got it_ , moving and swaying and _dancing_ to the song just as easily as she moves through the wilderness above them. The instant it clicks – Snow metaphorically catching the rhythm with both hands and making it _hers_ – those big Green eyes _fly_ back up to meet Carmy’s gaze, a grin of childlike wonder and utter _delight_ lighting her face up like the first rays of dawn.

_Fucking **perfect**._

_/It’s the end of the world as we know it_  
_/It’s the end of the world as we know it_  
_/It’s the end of the world as we know it_

They’re _dancing_ – feet moving and hips swaying, heads banging along with the beat and hands clasped tight together, and as the chorus hits its peak Carmina throws her head back and _cheers_ , “That’s my _girl_!”

_/And I feel fine_

The music flows around them, pounding and racing and thrumming through them like raw lightning, the two girls moving and smiling together, swaying side to side and pulling each other close before darting back out, feet moving as they twirl and spin and sway to the beat, and when the moment pulls up on them Carmina grins and pulls Snow close with a tug.

“Alright,” she cries, half-breathless, over the music, leading the other girl in a quick back-and-forth even as she relaxes her grip, eyebrows lifting in anticipation and eyes drinking in the excitement on Snow’s pretty face, “you ready?” She doesn’t wait for any kind of response – just tugs the smaller girl closer once more before arcing her outwards, letting go with one hand and lifting the other up high, spinning Snow out in an underarm turn and releasing, watching and beaming and _cheering_ as the smaller girl goes with it – spinning and twirling as gracefully as any Pre-Collapse ballerina across their dance-floor, actually turning a damn _pirouette_ at the end as she comes back around to face Carmina, every bit of her lit up and vibrating with delight and excitement, and Carmy just throws her hands up in the air and all but _screams_ , “ _Freestyle_!”

And they _do_.

_/Six o’clock, T.V. hour, don’t get caught in foreign tower_  
_/Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn_  
_/Lock him in uniform, book burning, bloodletting_

Carmy sees the split second of hesitation, Snow’s brow furrowing briefly as the younger teeb tries to follow along with what she’s doing, and immediately moves closer, knocking the girl gently with her hip – the jolt barely breaking the Snow’s stride before her freakish grace rights her – before spinning away again, grinning at the bewildered and vaguely affronted look she gets. “There’s no right way to do it, just let go and follow the music!” To punctuate her point Carmy breaks into a move she’s seen from her Uncle Hurk before – a flurry of arms waving and fists pumping and hips going _crazy_ in what her parents call the “seizing-inflatable-tube-man” – and laughs through brief flare of shocked wonder it draws. “It’ll take you where you need to be!”

_/Every motive escalate, automotive incinerate_  
_/Light a candle, light a motive, step down, step down_

There’s a split-second of stillness.

Then Carmina sees the pieces go -click- into place again and – eyes and smile and whole body _expanding_ with exhilaration – Snow damn well _explodes_ into motion.

And go with the music she damn well does.

_/Watch your heel crush, crush, uh oh_  
_/This means no fear, cavalier, renegade and steering clear_

Carmy cheers again, jumping and clapping as the younger girl cuts loose – arms and legs and head and whole damn body going wild, so much so that it should probably look ridiculous, but between the girl’s natural ( _ **preter** natural_) grace and the sheer unrestrained _passion_ she’s got it comes right around and looks _amazing_. “That’s it,” Carmy’s face hurts from smiling so much and she doesn’t care in the slightest, just throws herself in all the more so as to not be complete outdone, “you’ve got it!”

_/A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies_  
_/Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline_

She throws her arms up in the air with an ecstatic cry, puts an extra flare in as she twirls around, hands already out and ready to receive what she _knows_ without even looking will be there, fingers locking with Rose’s as she pulls him right on in with a smile and a laugh of delight, beaming up into his big Blue eyes as the shadow of apprehension melts away and _they_ dance.

_/It’s the end of the world as we know it_

She’s going to pull a damn _muscle_ from smiling so much. “Somebody was _studying_!”

_/It’s the end of the world as we know it_

Rose grins, waggles his eyebrows at her, and spins her out before tugging her back in, expression almost _smug_ until her hand lands on his shoulder and she knocks her hip – very deliberately ( _that’s what you **get** , you **punk**!_) against his and knocks the smugness right back out of him.

_/It’s the end of the world as we know it_  
_/And I feel fine_

Hands squeezing tight (one still holding his, the other soaking in the heat of his leanly muscled shoulder), Carmina grins up at Rose like the sunshine and crows along with the music.

“ _I feel **fine**_!”

And she really, really does.

The music sweeps over them, through them, pulsing and pounding and pulling their heartbeats together, pulling their bodies along and around and all across the dance floor – Carmina and Rose, then Rose spinning her out to Snow, then Snow and Rose catching hands and spinning away, then breaking apart and everyone by themselves, then everyone pulling back _together_ , holding and swaying and _breathing_ as the music dips low and slow for a moment, then exploding back into motion, moving and moving and _dancing_ as the song _soars_ , all thoughts and fears and the whole damn _world_ melting away until there’s only the music and _**them**_ , shaking and holding, laughing with one voice and two breaths as the music fades around them.

She’s ended up at Rose’s side, one of his lean arms tucked around her waist and her head thrown back against his shoulder as she tries to breathe through all the laughter, one hand still clutching his tight, smile as huge as ever and eyes burning weirdly as she watches Snow continue to dance, moving with the same passion as before in the now silent bunker, eyes closed and head thrown back in sheer _euphoria_ and the prettiest damn thing Carmina’s ever seen.

And if she dies right now – it hits her from a distance – she’ll die happily, die smiling at the memory of her twins dancing – the perfect, blinding _joy_ she saw on them in that moment just like when she’d seen the _sky_ for the first time.

And then – just when Carmy thinks the world can’t _possibly_ get any better – the _next_ song starts up.

The twang of the guitars sweeps through the air, accompanied by snare of drums, bright and beautiful and cheery as it builds and –

_/Oh yeah I tell you somethin’_

\- her twins _freeze_.

She can _feel_ Rose go shock-still, can actually _hear_ him gasp softly, sees across the room to where Snow’s drawn up to a halt so fast she nearly falls over, wide-eyed like she’s seen a ghost and trembling as much as her brother as The Beatles sing out through the bunker.

For a second all she can do is stare at Snow – at the trembling body and shaking hands and at the great big tears welling up in those great big Green eyes. Then she feels something move, shift, swaying around and behind her like she’s on a boat, and her eyes pull away and up and onto Rose and –

His eyes are closed but she can still see the tears, the little glints of water at the corner of his eyes. She only catches that for a moment, though – her eyes drawn away from his face to where his hand has slipped free from hers, to where it’s moving through the air, signing with even more grace and fluidity than usual, his hand and fingers dancing through the air, and when Carmy slowly slips free he doesn’t even seem to notice, just brings his other hand in as he –

_Oh._

Carmina watches, jaw slack and tears pricking up in her own eyes as Rose – lost in his own world – throws his all into it and _sings_ along with the song.

And she’d thought he was pretty _before_ …

Something _else_ moves and again Carmina’s eyes are drawn, this time settling on Snow – moved forward and arms outstretched, hands reaching out and eyes (still wet and packed with too much emotion to get into at the moment) so full of hope.

And Carmina can’t think of a single good reason to not go along with the song and fulfill that hope.

She pulls the other girl in the moment their hands touch, closer this time, one of her hands falling instinctively to curl around Snow’s hip, and all it takes is the slightest nod before Snow’s free hand is resting lightly on Carmy’s shoulder, the two of them swaying and spinning slowly to the music.

The song curls around the two of them, the world fading away beyond the points of warmth under her hands and on her shoulder, beyond the occasional brushes and the warm puffs of breath that curl up against her skin, beyond the brilliant Green and the pretty smile lifted up towards her.

And then they come around, putting Rose into view behind and above Snow, his hands still dancing as he sings along with the song, body joining them now – swaying gently in place – and eyes open and fixed on the two of them, the lopsided smile of pure joy from earlier gone away, gone small and soft and absolutely _breathtaking_ in its honesty and vulnerability.

There’s a moment where she sees them both, and on both of them there’s tears welled up in big eyes and suspended on soft cheeks that Carmy almost wants to brush away – except she somehow knows that they _mean_ something, that this moment, this _**song**_ means something _precious_ to her twins. And she knows that they’re letting her _share_ that something.

And once again the absolute _trust_ she’s being given, the _gift_ that she can’t begin to understand…

It’s almost too much to stand.

Almost.

Her hands squeeze lightly, instinctively tugging Snow a step closer, and the younger girl follows without a moment’s hesitation – a tiny sigh of _bliss_ falling from her lips as she leans forward, pretty little head coming to rest against Carmy’s collarbone as they dance. And even as they move closer, Carmina’s eyes lock with Rose’s, a couple tears falling down her cheek as she returns his smile, rocking Snow slowly back and forth in time with his swaying, eyes locked and drinking him in as he holds her gaze and smiles and serenades them with dancing hands, the music playing them all into the night.

_/I want to hold your hand_

     _/I want to hold your hand_

          _/I want to hold your hand_

               _/I want to hold your hand_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You know, initially, I thought this entire work would be about 10k words total. Hmm..._
> 
> _Also, **PUPPIES!!!** Fluffy Murder Machines, the Sequel! So good. (And thank you, **so much** , Ubi for creating a franchise where a teenage girl having power over giant mutant wolves is actually **plausible** , and no where **near** the weirdest thing that's ever happened in actual canon! Seriously, we who fanfic salute you.) ^-^_
> 
> _No, but seriously y'all - you have **no** idea how sad I was that we didn't get future, post-apocalyptic, super-charged Judges in New Dawn. Like... I got **really** excited when I ran into the drug-trip wolves while heading up to find Joseph, and kept waiting to see them again afterwards... and they never showed. Just... *sad-puppy noises* So I fixed it. **Judge Wolves.** (Sidebar... y'all… **y'all**. I had this **really** freaky moment the other day when it hit me... Joseph's... very particular about his words (to quote Pagan Min), and he doesn't just name things at random, so... The Judge. There's no way that's not a reference to the Judge **s** so... Y'all. Y'all, Joseph is **literally** saying that he made The Deputy his new **pet**. Just... **damn** , Joe. O_O)_
> 
> _Few more "quick" meta notes. First off, as you can probably guess I'm playing a little fast-and-loose with canon here. While I was **very** pleasantly surprised to go through New Dawn and find that a number of things... honestly really kind of meshed with what I was already working on, or (in a few cases) changed things for the **better** (yay), there are a few places where I've decided to ignore - or, at least, provide an alternate interpretation for - canon. The most obvious is probably the topography, and some of the flora/fauna of future Hope County. I wanted to give myself more room to work with, so I've cleared up some of the southern regions of the Whitetails and (though we're not there yet) I've pushed the radiation zones in Henbane further east. Additionally, the fauna changes are probably pretty apparent, but to clarify - I've added a final tier of animals in the "Abominations," like the Devil Bear from last chapter; basically, these guys are to Monstrous animals (or, as I call them, the "Monstrosities") what the Monstrous animals are to normal animals. We probably won't see much (if any more) of these guys here, but basically I was inspired by that picture of the glowing-chest cougar that seemed twice the size of the deer it'd killed, and decided to start moving my Far Cry a little more towards the Fallout side of things. Still kind of sad we didn't get radiation-breath cougars in New Dawn, tbh._   
>  _Finally, I've... probably altered the timeline somewhat, though I think it could still function pretty well. This story's set about a year before the events of New Dawn, and I'm running with the idea that the Highwayman take-over of Hope County was kind of slow to start. Basically, the people of Hope have dealt with various raider groups before, but the Highwaymen are only just starting to show up and are scouting things out before the big push. So the (Highwayman) Twins haven't shown up yet, and the Highwaymen are a threat and are kidnapping people and all that fun stuff, but they haven't **taken over** yet. Also, I personally operate under the assumption that Prosperity started up **before** things went back to hell, as a sort of secondary Fall's End - so Nick's still with his family and the Ryes still have their own home, but Prosperity's up and serving as a hub/meeting place/emergency shelter for that part of Hope County._
> 
> _Well, now that my end notes are long enough to constitute their own fic, that's **probably** more than enough rambling for the day, so... hope y'all enjoyed it, and I'll see you next time! ^x^/_
> 
>  
> 
> _Chapter title is sorta-kinda taken from "Daisy Jane" by American ("Walkin' me back to Memphis"). Songs from the bunker dance-party are: "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett, "End of the World as We Know it (and I Feel Fine)" by R.E.M., and "I Want to Hold Your Hand" by The Beatles._

**Author's Note:**

> _Hmm... interesting twins there. I wonder who they came from? :)_
> 
> _So aaaaaaall the way back when New Dawn was announced I started getting ideas. And I wanted to get those ideas down and get them posted before the game itself actually came out. I have **technically** managed that. At least I've managed a **part** of it (I **really** wanted the whole fic finished before the game came out, but that has not happened and I am **refusing** to get depressed about it). Also! While some changes have been made from the original plot, as I was unable to stop myself from watching the reveal trailer and the story trailer and making adjustments that just... worked better (the homebase for the Peggies 2.0 moved to its canon location from the Seed Ranch, the Peggies swapped their remaining guns for bows-and-arrows, and a few other details like that), by and the large I'm still probably going to be going off of my initial plan, regardless of what the actual game reveals. Probably. Maybe. It depends on what does and doesn't fit the existing outline for the narrative. Also I am going to straight up disappear until I've played New Dawn all the way through **at least** once, so... yeah. ^-~_
> 
> _Also, quick note re: the twins' language. The particular form of sign language they use is a hybrid - combining elements of ASL (American Sign Language), Hope County Resistance/Whitetail Militia Tactical Hand Signals (itself mostly just US military tactical hand signals), and entirely original signs made to fill in the gaps. Also also, in addition to the identified signs for water and Pastor, the three notable signs in this chapter are: "Airplane," but modified so the hand shape is the letter N (the enthusiastic one); "Mother/Mom/Mama," but performed in a manner somewhat akin to baby-talk (the sorrowful/desperate one); and the one that Carmina thought was profanity... "Father." :)_
> 
> _Well ya'll, hope you enjoyed this, and I'll see you next time!_
> 
> _Chapter Title comes from "Hello, I Love You" by The Doors._


End file.
